


Rookie Mistakes

by h0neybeebear



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Addiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 13, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: Working with Olivia Benson would've been the dream.... That is if the decorated detective hadn't turned out to be such a bitch(Or Olivia is heartbroken and Amanda is a useless lesbian with a crush in this angsty enemies to lovers fic)





	1. Chapter 1

The break room was quiet and peaceful in the early morning. She liked this part of the day, when she could follow some sort of the same pattern as she had before.

She'd come in, find her way to the break room and start the coffee. Elliot would be there by then, checking their messages, his and hers because they wouldn't tackle any of them alone anyways.

She knew how he liked his coffee, and she'd managed to find the perfect balance of dark, bitter coffee and the sweetness of the sugar so that she'd see his smile every morning when he took the first sip. It was the tiniest of happinesses, and she hadn't realized how much she would miss it.

Elliot was gone.

It was a fact, as unequivocal as the rising and falling of sun, but the hole gaping in her heart was just as unchangeable, just as inescapable. She'd never taste his mouth again, never run her fingers along the ridges of his chest, never feel him inside of her again. His wry smirk, the twinkling of his grey blue eyes, and the low timber of his voice had left her alone, searching blindly in the dark for those things which become her points on the compass of their life. Where she travelled now was unmapped, an unexplored wilderness that would eat her up as surely as it would spit her back out again.

Olivia poured her solitary cup of coffee, feeling no sense of fulfillment at the task nor desire to drink it. It felt like every other thing in her life, mundane and useless, a graveyard of memories.

The intensity and the frequency of how often she wished for a state of non-existence should have terrified her. She knew far too well the earmarks of depression, but it was as with as much vehemence that she prayed for release from the heartbreak that she denied ever needing deliverance from any man or romantic entanglement. What she thought was acceptance had come quickly, though in the weeks that followed she'd come to understand that pretending as though the emptiness inside her did not exist was not the same as processing Elliot's sudden departure.

She closed her eyes, swaying in front of the coffee maker as the thick knot of dread she'd pushed down all morning rose. She drew a deep breath through her nose, attempting to stem the startling emotion. She hated crying, hated feeling sorry for herself, hated feeling so dependent upon something, or in this case, someone.

"You beat me to it."

Olivia started, nearly spilling the cup of steaming coffee as the charming, Southern lilt of Amanda Rollins' voice jarred her out of her self pitying thoughts.

Annoyance immediately flooded her veins, and she tossed a strained glance over her shoulder at the other detective as her heart slowed.

She may not have moved on from Elliot's retirement, but life marched on around her. The inner workings of SVU chugged onwards, and she'd had no say in the transfer of Amanda Rollins, a young detective from Atlanta, Georgia, who appeared too wet-behind-the-ears to shine in even the smallest light upon Elliot's legacy.

 _A replacement?_ She'd demanded, flying into Cragen's office with tears burning her eyes. _I barely got his desk packed up!_

He'd taken her distress with a calm, though compassionate expression. He'd apologized, following it with the reiteration of everything she already knew - _he decided to leave and we can't change that; we have a precinct to run, victims to attend to…_

She'd left, subconsciously determined not accept this intruder, this interloper. Seeing her at his desk every day was almost more than she could take.

"The coffee." Amanda clarified when Olivia didn't answer, jarring her back to the present once more.

"In Atlanta that was always my job, but I think that had more to do with my sex than my joy for the morning."

She scoffed, lounging down into a chair at the table, and Olivia turned her gaze back towards the coffee, her jaw clenched.

 _Atlanta this, Atlanta that_. She thought, sarcastically. _If it's that great why don't you go-_

"It's kinda nice not being the only one now." Amanda added, and Olivia could hear the hopefulness in her voice.

She wanted some sort of camaraderie, and if Olivia had been in a different position, she would've been more than happy to work with another woman in the Special Victims Unit. God knew there were too many insensitive men… but Amanda wasn't just another woman. She was the person sitting where Elliot had always been for the past twelve years.

And so the anger came, as it always did, an unfair, blistering anger which was neither immediately satisfying nor eventually fulfilling. There'd be no universe in which she'd find her behavior towards Amanda acceptable, but she could not stop herself.

"Well, don't get used to it." She finally, replied, lifting her chin. "We all take equal responsibility around here."

Turning away from the coffee maker, she took her coffee with every intention of leaving the room and the frivolous small talk.

"Hey." Amanda caught her, rising from her chair was a frown beginning on her brow. "I didn't mean anything by that. I just meant…"

Her voice trailed away as Olivia continued to stare at her with a stony expression. She knew she shouldn't be so unexplainably cold, but she felt if she opened her mouth something even worse would fall out.

"It's just... it's nice not to be the only woman." Amanda finally finished with a shrug, her sharp blue eyes searching Olivia's for understanding, and it was uncomfortably intense.

Olivia glanced down at the steam and foam swirling in her coffee, avoiding Amanda's gaze as her stomach twinged with guilt.

"It's nice you feel that way." She finally replied, her voice a strained rasp.

Turning away, she kept her chin down and strode from the room before she could feel anymore self disdain.

She could feel Amanda's eyes following her, and she escaped into the squad room. Sinking to her desk chair, she clasped a hand over her forehead which was already pounding.

 _Jesus, what is your problem?_ She asked herself, viscously.

She'd known long enough that her and Elliot's relationship would never be anything more than an office affair that she shouldn't be so impacted by his departure. She'd told herself enough times that eventually he would leave that she shouldn't be shocked. She certainly shouldn't be taking it out on a young, clueless detective who was only trying to impress her.

She'd seen the way Amanda gazed at her, wide-eyed and flushed, upon their first shaking hands, and it had caused an inward groan. She was no idol, and at the moment, not even close to a role model. The Olivia Benson that Amanda had expected to work with didn't exist right now, and with creeping self despair, Olivia wondered if she ever had.

xxxxxx

A week later

The DD-5 lying in front of Amanda had been finished for well over an hour, but instead of going home she'd spent the time casting short glances at the desk across from her under the guise of editing the fine details. There were only two of them left here in the squad room, though it might as well have been one from the way the other woman ignored her.

Olivia had been cold towards her since day one, but ever since the arrest of Brian Smith, their exchanges had become even more strained. Olivia had spent the entire case down playing and disregarding Amanda's ideas and leads, even when it was obvious that she had more knowledge and experience with the case. Amanda had thought that bringing her expertise to the table would impress Olivia or at least earn her a little respect, but apparently she'd been wrong.

Now, she wasn't sure why she was wasting her time away on a Friday evening when there were plenty of bars to hop and bets to cast, but she'd remained in her seat, enthralled by their solitary co-existance.

Olivia Benson was an enigma, and the fact that Amanda had read her so wrong through childish, idolizing gazes irked her more than she cared to admit. She had thought that by moving to a more liberal, progressive state such as New York she'd be able to escape the boy's club atmosphere of the police department. Upon hearing she'd be working with a decorated, female officer such as Benson she'd had so much hope for a more positive future in her career, but so far the other detective had given her nothing but patronizing looks and condescending replies. It was almost as if Benson didn't want her here, although Amanda couldn't figure out what exactly she'd done wrong.

 _Maybe I'm not the most pleasant person._ She'd told herself. _Maybe I can be too assertive or too eager or too whatever…_

But the truth was she actually _tried_ with Benson, so much so that she hardly recognized herself when the other woman walked into the room. Something came over, something inevitable and inescapable, something indescribable, and she'd felt it as soon as they had met. With a flutter of her heart and a twist and turn of her stomach, Olivia had captivated her.

Maybe, it was her tall figure that Amanda imagined was something akin to the Greek goddesses of mythology; or maybe it was the ever shifting, sparkling hazel of her eyes that were dark and mysterious one moment, then wide and golden the next. Maybe it was her smile, or the sound of her voice, or maybe the little lift of her brow when she was annoyed, amused, or sarcastic. Maybe it was just the warmth of her long, olive fingers the first time they shook hands. It was _something_ so sensual and swift that it took her breath away, no matter how Olivia regarded her.

And it was obvious that she didn't want to regard her, at least not in any kind of way that Amanda had imagined she might. She knew that Benson had just lost a partner, and she'd heard whisperings about the man who had stood by Olivia's side for a dozen years, but she hadn't expected such a reaction to her replacement of him. She'd seen detectives get messed up over losing a partner, but, for Christ's sake, the man wasn't dead. Why did she feel like she was intruding upon this squad, or maybe just upon Olivia, when she was simply taking over a job for a retired officer? Every interaction they shared felt like an accusation, and Amanda had only become more aware of it with each passing day.

Lifting an inconspicuous gaze over the top of her computer screen once more, she watched Olivia staring off across the room, her chin propped atop her folded hands. Her thoughtful gaze didn't give away much of what she might be thinking, but considering she'd been in that position for over 15 minutes, Amanda assumed that something was bothering her. If she hadn't felt she might be brushed aside or snapped at, she might have gone over to her. Lord knew she was itching to know what her problem was.

"Can I help you?" Olivia's voice jarred her.

Amanda jumped back in the chair, scrambling to appear busy. Her heart slammed up against her ribs as she realized her own mind had wandered and she'd been caught staring.

"No, no, I'm good." Amanda managed to say, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear to hide her flushing cheeks from Olivia's view. She stared down at the desk, hoping the burn of Olivia's gaze would recede, but when it didn't she glanced up to see her looking back at her, one eyebrow raised.

"You just seemed….troubled." Amanda stuttered.

Olivia pursed her lips and looked away.

"I'm fine. What's keeping you so late?"

Amanda swallowed a curse, and glanced back at the computer screen, searching for some kind of response.

"Finishing my fives."

"You've been done for an hour." Olivia noted, casually, sitting back in the chair and folding her legs. Her suspended leg bounced slowly, and Amanda could feel her gaze searing holes into her forehead again.

"Right." She grimaced, meeting Olivia's eyes. "I guess I just don't have much to go home to. My apartment is still pretty bare."

"So you spend your Friday evenings on the job?" Olivia chuckled, cynically.

"Well, so do you apparently." Amanda snapped, quickly, embarrassed by Olivia's apparent amusement at her life. "You've been sitting there for two hours staring at that desk."

Amanda jabbed her finger towards the empty desk across from Olivia. She immediately regretted the hasty response when not just one, but both of Olivia's perfectly arched brows rose above a surprised and irritated expression.

"Maybe you should spend your Friday evenings somewhere besides in my business." Olivia suggested, her eyes narrowing.

Amanda's jaw slipped open at the sheer rudeness of the other detective and she struggled to come up with a response as Olivia rose from her chair with a concieted flip of her long dark hair.

 _That's it_. She thought, her heart pounding in her ears with pent up frustration.

She was trembling as she jumped up from her own chair, her chest burning.

"Hey."

Olivia paused at her command, her finger poised in the midst of buttoning her jacket.

"What?" Her voice was low and strained.

Amanda hesitated for another second, watching as Olivia knotted the belt of the pea coat.

 _What is your fucking problem?_ She wanted scream across the room. _What the fuck did I ever do to you?_

Olivia tossed her hair over her collar, and glanced back at Amanda, expectantly. Her sparkling, chestnut gaze almost dared her to speak, dared her to just give Olivia a reason, a justification.

Amanda clenched her hands into fists against the edge of the desk and gazed down at her paperwork. She counted her breaths, forced her heart to slow, pushed down every urge to retaliate.

 _Don't give her the satisfaction. Don't give her the satisfaction. Don't give her the satisfaction_.

"Did you have something to say?" Olivia asked at last.

Lifting her eyes, Amanda smiled tightly and shook her head.

"No, Liv." She replied tightly, and sat back down at her desk. "Have a good weekend."

She pinned her eyes on the file in front of her, and waited for Olivia's eyes to stop burning her.

But even when she heard her turn away and her footsteps retreated, she wasn't sure she'd ever escape that fiery gaze or if she even wanted to.

Rejection be damned. She never had known what was good for her or when to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

The leftovers of the box mix pasta that she'd eaten earlier had grown cold on the coffee table while the choices of TV entertainment had become raunchier, and Olivia knew it had to be past 11 pm. She should be considering heading to bed, but instead, she remained lounged on the couch in an old Journey t-shirt and her underwear.

Swirling the glass of wine in her hand, she barely watched the TV screen. Her phone was in her other hand, and she'd been staring at the screen on and off ever since she'd arrived home. Elliot's contact info stared back at her, and her thumb had hovered over the call button more than once.

 _He doesn't wanna talk to you._  She told told herself, turning the screen to black once more.

She rolled her eyes at herself, and tilted the glass against her lips again. She had a pleasant buzz in her head, and she knew she shouldn't ruin it by doing something incredibly stupid, but at the same time, calling Elliot while her inhibitions were lowered had never seemed more appealing.

Everything felt unfinished and undone right now, like a damn cliffhanger that never ended. She wanted closure,  _needed_ it, if she ever hoped to move on beyond this moment in time. She'd always thought their relationship would end with a volcanic fight, an explosive rift which ripped them from each other's arms. Not this. Not this excruciating, sudden silence which left her drifting through uncertainty.

Opening her eyes, she felt her heart pounding. She wasn't sure if it was from the wine or the fear. Lifting her phone with a trembling hand, she unlocked the screen, and stabbed the call button before she hesitated again. She pressed it to her ear as the sound of the ringing swirled dread through her stomach.

 _Come on, come on…_  She mouthed the words, her eyes fluttering shut as she listened to the shrill jangling repeat until her head ached with it.

_BEEP…._

_The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable-_

"Damnit." She stabbed the end button, impetuous tears rising to burn her eyes.

She shoved herself out of the cushions and tossed her cell to the coffee table where it clattered against the glass. Clasping her forehead in her hands, she stared of the floor as the silence buzzed around her, a wordless reinforcement of what she already knew.

_He's gone. Forever._

She closed her eyes against the burgeoning tears, loathe to let them fall once more in the lonely space of her wretched, little apartment.

_Bring!_

She started, jolting up straight when her phone abruptly began to ring. She stared wide-eyed at the device where it vibrated facedown, desperate to believe that Elliot had finally decided to return her calls.

With a trembling hand, she snatched up her phone, and flipped it over. The LED display shone across her flushed cheeks, scintillating with hope through the tears in her eyes, but the hammer of disappointment fell quickly, almost too quickly for her to emotionally process.

The name on the screen was not Elliot's. It was Amanda's.

 _What the fuck!_ She wanted scream.  _What do you fucking want, you stupid, blonde-_

Releasing a ragged growl, she jumped up from the couch, praying fervently for the self control she needed in order to not throw her phone out the window and smash it to pieces on the concrete below. She paced around the coffee table, clutching the device in her fist until the anger subsided and the ringing cut off sharply, leaving only the sound of her raspy breathing in her ears.

Reality surged ahead then as she stared at the walls of her little home that she'd once been perfectly content with. There'd been a time when a man would enter her space and leave the next morning without so much as a second thought from her. A time before she'd opened the door too wide, before she'd let the whole of herself come spilling out to someone who'd never been reliable enough to support his own feelings, much less hers...

 _Jesus, Olivia Margaret, get a hold of yourself._ She thought in bewilderment as she stood in the center of the room, enveloped with such strong emotion and self loathing for a moment that she could scarcely breathe. She lifted a hand and scraped her fingers over her face, attempting to wipe away the tears and the pathetic reaction.

She'd nearly forgotten that Amanda had even called by the time she swallowed down the knot of dread into her stomach. When the phone began to ring again, she flinched, and pressed her eyes shut hard for a moment.

She needed the strength she'd always so easily drawn upon, but she supposed perseverance would have to do.

Lifting the cell, she reluctantly answered the call, carefully hiding the recent outburst from her tone.

"Benson."

"Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Amanda's Southern drawl permeated the apology, and Olivia hated the way it seemed so sincere. Why would the other woman care about her comfort or lack thereof? They barely knew each other and what they did know hadn't formed anything close to a friendship. In fact, the whole acquaintance had become quite the opposite.

"No, it's okay." Olivia forced herself to reply in an even tone, reminding herself that she still had to be professional. "What's up?"

"Missing kid." Amanda replied.

"Where's Cragen?"

"On his way."

"Wait, where are you at?"

"At the mom's house." Amanda explained. "I was at SVU when the call came in."

"And you're just now calling me?" Olivia snapped, spinning around from her planted position in the middle of the living room.

Shaking her head, she held back explictives from her lips as she grabbed her crumpled pants from the floor. Balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she began to dress.

"I called Cragen first on my way over." Amanda clarified, a gritty defensiveness rising in her voice. "I didn't want to waste any time."

"What's the address?" Olivia asked, ignoring Amanda's explanation and her own desire to obliterate it completely.

"122 West 75th." Amanda answered in a clipped tone. "I'll see you then."

With a click, the call came to an end, leaving Olivia struggling on the other end with the button of her pants. She came to a halt when she realized that Amanda had hung up on her, obviously too focused on the case or too frustrated with Olivia's attitude to put up a front of amiability.

She let the phone slide from her ear into her palm, and stared down at the black screen where her reflection gazed back at her, an excruciatingly self aware oracle of judgement. She pressed her eyes shut as a wave of guilt came over her once more.

Amanda had done nothing wrong, yet she could not help but find fault with her every action. She didn't want Amanda to win, but at this rate, neither of them would be winning anything, least of all each other's approval.

Shoving her phone into her pocket, Olivia strode towards the door. She snatched her coat from the hook, and headed out the door. When the cold, fall air hit her, she settled her hand into her pocket where her NYPD badge rested. She wrapped her fingers around it, and held on for dear life.

**xxxxxxxx**

Half a dozen police cruisers lined the curb, casting red and blue orbs across the street like some kind of morbid carnival, and on the sidewalk a couple of unis were organizing a search of the immediate area.

Amanda watched the commotion from inside the silence of the SVU she'd driven to Dana Halstead's brownstone, frustrated nearly to the point of anger that she cared so much about Benson's opinion and acceptance. Her hands were shaking around her cellphone in the wake of her call to Olivia, and she could feel the illogical emotion that had become far too familiar in the recent weeks building in her chest. She'd spent the last three weeks pandering to the woman, and it had garnered her nothing but hurt feelings and the same creeping sense of unbelonging she'd experienced in Atlanta.

 _Why do you even try?_ She berated herself, staring hard at the scene beyond as she tried to clear the misting of tears from her eyes.  _You're a failure to her. Just like everyone else._

She'd always considered herself an independent person, but in reality, she was from a small, backwoods Georgia town, and she'd barely managed to set foot beyond Atlanta in all of her twenty-nine years until now. Her life trajectory had been headed towards never leaving at all until things had changed.  _Atlanta_ had changed. Once a refuge from her family in Loganville and the memories of childhood, the beautiful city had become as much a prison to her as the town of her youth. Running again, even further than before, had seemed better than staying and facing the massive pile of cards that were stacked against her.

Now, nearly a month in New York had gone by, and it was shaping up to be just as much of a disappointment as Atlanta. If she had hoped for even one small thing to turn in her favor, it had been Olivia.

 _What a fucking joke._ Amanda thought as she shoved her phone into her pocket.

Shouldering the door open, she slid down onto the sidewalk. The weather was just turning towards the autumn season, but Amanda had hardly adjusted to the Northern temperatures. Tugging the lapels of her coat around her neck, she strode towards the brownstone ahead of her. She took the steps two at a time, and flashed her badge to the uni at the door.

"Special Vics?" He asked.

"Yeah. Where's the mother?"

"Living room. Down the hall to your left."

"Thanks."

She grabbed the front door handle, steeling herself. The woman were always the worst, the mothers especially. She'd signed herself up for a lifetime of watching the female species be abused, tortured, and killed, but it never became any easier, especially after Atlanta …after  _him_...

She shook her head as though a simple rattle of her brain could dispel the memories before she stepped inside. The door fell shut behind her, locking her inside the darkened hall, and she stood there for a moment, listening to the low mumble of voices just beyond the corridor. Beneath it all, the soft whimper of a woman's voice scratched against her ears.

Her arms prickled as she took a step forward and the hardwood creaked beneath her boot. She ignored the dread in her belly, and forced herself towards the light spreading itself like beacon at the end of the hall.

When she turned the corner, the scene unfolded before her as it had a hundred times. The first time she'd witnessed a parents' distress over their missing child she'd thought to herself,  _I will never see something so disturbing ever again._ As it turned out she'd been wrong about a lot back then.

"Mrs. Halstead?"

The woman on the couch glanced up with watery, bloodshot eyes, the depths of them haunting Amanda from inside her pale, gaunt face. Her thin lips trembled as she nodded slowly and clutched a tissue against her cheek.

"Hi. My name's Amanda. I'm with the Special Victims Unit."

She advanced slowly towards the couch, offering a sympathetic smile as she sat down next to the fragile woman.

"Hi." She whispered, patting away the tears that swelled without constraint from her the corners of her eyes.

"I understand your son is missing." Amanda began gently, allowing the mother to form as much of the story as possible.

"Yes. Rory. He's fourteen." Dana replied, her voice trembling as she offered her other hand to Amanda.

The school photo quaked in her fingers, and Amanda hesitated for a moment before she took it. The boy in the photo was pale like his mother, unsmiling and somber. His collar length hair had obviously been dyed deep black and his tired eyes were lined in black kohl.

"I see." She murmured, grimacing as the obvious signs of unbelonging and loneliness in the single photo. "And how long has he been gone?"

"Um… Yesterday before school he told me he was going to a friend's house to stay the night last night. He's done it plenty of times…. I know the family. It's never been a problem-" She cut off sharply with a muffled cry, and clasped the tissue over her nose and mouth. "But I think I should've known something was wrong… Right?"

"You think he left on his own?"

"He never went to Jacob's house!" Dana exclaimed, her desperate gaze flinging towards Amanda's, infused with guilt and dread. "When he didn't come home from school today I called Jacob's mother. She didn't know anything about this!"

"I understand." Amanda assured her, calmly, before pulling out her notebook. "So he's been gone since about 3 or 4 yesterday."

"Yes, his friends saw him start walking home from school, but he didn't come here."

"Okay… I'll need to speak with Jacob and his school mates. What school does he go to?"

"Manhattan High.

"And what about Rory's father?" Amanda asked, carefully, watching Mrs. Halstead's reactions with a studious eye.

Dana shook her head slowly, barely meeting Amanda's eye as she murmured, "No. He's been gone for a long time."

"Okay… Does Rory have a subway card, a credit card or anything like that?"

"A subway card, yes."

"Good. If he used it we can find out where he's going. We'll also need to track his cell, and take his laptop or computer if you have one, and we'll also check all the hospitals and precincts again." Amanda replied as she wrote down key words on the notepad. "Do you mind if I take a look at his room?"

"Yes, of course, go ahead." Dana nodded. "It's upstairs to the right."

"Thank you." Amanda said as she stood from the couch and stuffed notepad back into her pocket.

"No… thank  _you._ " Dana whispered, reaching up to touch her arm.

Amanda smiled tightly before she added, "My captain will be arriving soon along with one of my colleagues. We'll find Rory."

Dana nodded once more, and Amanda turned away before the pain in the woman's eyes could wind through her heart any deeper.

Heading up the stairs, she felt the air rush back into her lungs. She felt more comfortable here as she slowly opened Rory's bedroom door. There'd be pieces here, pieces of a boy who didn't quite belong, and she could fit them back together until the picture became clear again.

She stepped inside, and her blue eyes drifted across the posters of metal bands and movies. She wandered in further, examining the bookshelf full of comic books and manga, neatly organized in chronological order. She ran her fingers along the spines before pulling one out, and flipping through it. She passed over the pages of a manga that depicted two high school boys, and an abundance of sexual content. She placed it back on the shelf, and ran her thumb along the spine again.

 _Poor kid._ She thought, biting her lower lip.  _What are you hiding? A boyfriend? You shouldn't have to go missing to be with your boyfriend…_

She left the bookshelf and opened to closet to an array of dark colored clothing and boots covered in straps and buckles. Glancing up towards the top shelf, she grabbed one of the boxes stowed away there and pulled it down. She tore open the tape, and sifted through the stack of CDs that Rory had obviously abandoned for Spotify, finding the same taste of music that he had displayed on his walls. She nearly put the box back before she noticed the matte cover of a magazine gleaming at the bottom. She carefully extricated it though she was already certain she knew what it contained.

"Amanda?"

Olivia's voice startled her, and she jerked, her heart racing as she slapped the gay porn magazine closed.

"Jesus, you scared the fuck out of me." She snapped, tossing a glare over her shoulder as Olivia's tall figure filled the doorframe.

"Mrs. Halstead said you were up here." Olivia offered, ignoring Amanda's annoyance.

She stepped further into the room, her eyes skating over the walls just as Amanda had done, and Amanda found herself still, watching her. It was unusual to see her like this, bare-faced, hair in a messy ponytail, clad in jeans and her trench coat. The lapels were loose against her shoulders, and Amanda caught sight of the low cut t-shirt she was wearing beneath.

 _Fuck._  She ripped her eyes away from the detective, cursing herself for her own thoughts when she'd just been enraged with her only half an hour ago.

"You wanna catch me up?" Olivia asked, briskly.

Her tone felt like a splash of cold water on the heat in Amanda's chest, and this time she welcomed the icy reality. There was a missing kid, and besides that, a bleak future for their relationship.

"Here." Amanda said, pulling out her notebook. "Catch yourself up."

She tossed the notebook across the room, and Olivia barely managed to catch it, her expression reading shock for a moment before she clenched her jaw against her lapsing muscles. Her dark eyes bounced between Amanda and notebook for a moment, something like a warning hiding in her eyes  _\- don't test me_ ;  _I'll bite_ \- but Amanda was feeling bold and frustrated.

She turned back to the magazine, her mouth tight as she examined the worn pages, some earmarked and falling out. His one indulgence was hidden inside the closet, and the significance of that could not have troubled Amanda more.

Olivia had been quiet as she read over Amanda's notes, and the next time she spoke her voice was closer. Amanda stiffened as she felt her hovering behind her shoulder.

"What's that?" Olivia asked as Amanda lowered the magazine.

Amanda sighed and glanced up at the dark closet space again.

"Don't you ever wish parents would wake the fuck up  _before_ their kid is missing?"

"You're blaming Mrs. Holstead?" Olivia's tone was overtly incredulous, and Amanda rolled her eyes.

Turning around, she shoved the magazine into Olivia's hands.

"Look around, Liv. A nice house, a mother who makes good money and indulges all of this." Amanda spread her hands towards the gothic, teenage display of rebellion. "What does he have to be sad about?"

Olivia's brow furrowed and she glanced down at the magazine. She nodded slowly, silent for once.

"You think he ran off with another boy?" She asked at last. "Someone older? Or just left..?"

"I don't know yet." Amanda replied. "But I've been in this kid's shoes. Running doesn't fix shit."

She wandered past Olivia towards the bed. The sheets were thrown back and rumpled, and she sat down slowly at the edge before lying back. She stared up the ceiling, the same ceiling Rory had stared at every night as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't gay.

"You've been in his shoes." Olivia's voice finally broke the silence, and Amanda closed her eyes for a moment.

Olivia was intuitive as ever.

"Sure." She finally managed to whisper. "Misunderstood teenage seeking validation…"

Her breath trembled when she felt Olivia's presence draw closer, and her lids fluttered open to see the other woman standing above her, her eyes narrowed and intense. Amanda stared back at her, a warmth flooding her cheeks in a slow bloom. The silence lengthened almost painfully, and Amanda wanted to bolt up from the bed.

She'd come a long way since she'd been in Rory's position, but not beyond the point of caring about whether people knew she was gay or not. It wasn't something she typically announced though she'd convinced herself she wasn't hiding it, only omitting it for lack of necessity. She'd let her tongue slip in front of Olivia of all people, and she chided herself and her subconscious desire for the other detective.

Finally, Olivia broke their gazes, and glanced back done at the notebook, allowing Amanda to breathe again.

"So." Olivia murmured, tapping the notepad against her open palm. "What would you do if you were Rory then?"


	3. Chapter 3

Four am came quickly, far too quickly for time to pass when a child was missing.

The 16th hadn't stopped moving, and there was a constant hum of chaos in the background. An Amber Alert had been sent out and the shrill ringing of the phones had only worsened Olivia's headache.

 _Too much damn wine earlier_. She chastised herself as she tried to focus on the street security camera footage that they had pulled from the school, and other areas nearby.

Amanda was seated across from her, her brow furrowed as she glanced between the computer and the notepad in front of her. She had taken charge of Rory's subway card history in an attempt to find repeat excursions beyond his every day transit to and from school.

Rory's computer had been transferred to TARU, and an attempt had been made to track his cell as well. So far every call they'd received had concluded with a dead end, and they'd discovered Rory's phone had been turned off or dead since about 9 pm the night before.

It all seemed useless in Olivia's tired aching mind. She wasn't used to feeling so drained, so empty of hope and determination.

 _It'll get better once I interview his friends._  She kept telling herself.  _Once I get out on the street. Once I do_ something  _besides just sit here and -_

"I'll have to talk to Rory's mom again." Amanda commented, snapping Olivia's out of her drifting thoughts.

She flinched, realizing that her head had grown heavy, and her eyes had failed to open again once she'd closed them for some relief from the headache. Amanda's tense expression was blurry in her vision as she forced her eyes open and rubbed the heels over her hands over her dry lids.

"I need to get her input on these locations." Amanda continued, although Olivia hadn't replied.

She wasn't used to spending so much time with Amanda either. In fact, she'd avoided working so closely with her as much as possible in the past few weeks, and the bitter feelings in her heart resisted any change to that pattern.

Their conversation in Rory's bedroom had upset the careful balance, and she'd felt herself slip. Amanda being gay changed nothing, she'd told herself. She could have compassion for her struggles in that area of her life without liking her as a person. The problem was she hadn't felt any compassion for her at all until this moment, and realizing that she had dehumanized another woman in her head forced the ugly sickness of self hatred into her chest so deeply that she could not shake it.

There was nothing she wanted more right now than to escape from this precinct, this woman, this job that made her so intensely self aware of how she viewed other people and herself; but she couldn't. There was a child missing, a confused kid who didn't know where to go. Surely, that had to be more important to her than her own comfort. At least, it always had been in the past.

"Hey, it looks like you could use a pick me up." Amanda said, jarring her once more.

She glanced up at Amanda's wrinkled brow and deep, cerulean gaze, feeling a knot form in her throat. She didn't know why the younger detective wasted even so much as a breath on her, or why her efforts to seclude herself from Amanda hadn't been as efficient as she had hoped, and now she wasn't even sure that she wanted to drive her away.

"Sure." She finally muttered, pressing her fingers to her temple and directing her eyes back towards the screen.

_Anything to get you away from me._

The display seared her throbbing retinas, but she gazed steadily forward, praying that Amanda would walk away from her, even for just a moment.

"We could both use some caffeine." Amanda agreed, pushing back from the table.

Olivia cringed at the sympathetic tone, and kept her head down as Amanda passed her. She didn't see the pass of Amanda's fingers over her arm coming, and she flinched breathlessly at the casual touch. She involuntarily pulled her elbow in, glancing over her shoulder with a sharp reproach on her tongue, but Amanda's back was already retreating into the sea of detectives crowding the precinct. A curse sputtered to life on her tongue, but she bit it back with clenched fists and jaw.

Spinning back towards the screen, she fought the inexplicable tears which stung her eyes.

 _I'm just underslept. Overworked….Need to go home and sleep…_  She resolutely told herself, pressing her eyes shut for a moment.

Her moistened lashes fluttered open when her phone pinged from her pocket, alerting her of a new message. Sniffing back the tears, she fished out her cell, and unlocked the screen. She expected a message from Fin or another detective, but when she read the name on the notification, her stomach dropped.

_1 new message_

_Elliot: You called?_

Time slowed, dragging out the hum of voices around her into white noise in her ears. She felt each thud of her heart like a hammer swinging against her ribs with every intention of breaking through the bone and flesh. She couldn't even draw the smallest breath for what felt like agonizing minutes until she was able to compute the shock. Then the emotions cascaded down, one giant avalanche which threatened to bury her forever.

The intense urge to jump up and smash her phone screen against the table overwhelmed her, and jarred up for her seat. The rolling computer chair tumbled over behind her with a crash, and she stood trembling, fighting the violence with clenched fists and tears welling in her eyes.

_Now?! Now he wants to talk? So fucking casual? How dare he-_

"Liv?" Amanda's voice shattered her the angry tirade raging in her mind.

The static quieted in her head, and she became acutely aware of the tremble in her hand, the tears brimming in her eyes, the feeling of dozens eyes boring into her back.

"Are you okay?" Amanda whispered, inching closer to her.

Olivia glanced over at her, at her wide, blue eyes and the coffee cups in both her hands.

She pursed her lips hard, flicking her gaze towards either side of them where the other detectives were slowly returning to their work.

"I'm fine…" She whispered at last, her voice quaking and raspy.

Turning, she righted the chair with shaking hands, and retrieved her coat from the back of it. Her mind was spinning as she shoved it onto her arms, and pocketed her phone.

"What are you doing?" Amanda questioned.

"I have something I need to do." Olivia replied, tossing her hair over her collar and buttoning the coat with barely controlled motions.

"Now?" Amanda asked, her brow furling as her gaze followed the mountain of work that lay before them. "What about the case? We've got a missing kid, Liv."

"I'll be back." Olivia insisted through gritted teeth, finally meeting Amanda confused gaze. "I don't need a fucking guilt trip right now, Rollins."

"Well, you need  _something."_ Amanda snarled suddenly, her cheeks flushed in an indignation that Olivia found far too self righteous.

"You know, Rollins, if I cared for what you thought I would've asked." She hissed before she could stop herself.

"Maybe you need a kick in the ass." Amanda ground out, slamming the coffee cups down on the table. "A good old fashioned ass whooping."

"Oh, don't you wish you could lay a finger on me?" Olivia breathed, stabbing her finger in Amanda's face.

The younger woman's face shifted into shock as the red flush of anger on her cheeks bled into the bloom of humiliation. Her mouth trembled open as though she wanted to speak, and Olivia imagined it would've been some kind of denial. Whatever she meant to say never came, and the look of horror in her eyes only became more clear with each passing second.

 _Oh God, you wish you could touch me._  The realization passed through Olivia's mind with all the force of a speeding train.

She'd been so focused on Elliot that she hadn't realized that she'd inadvertently taken a dig at Amanda's sexuality and subsequently uncovered an underlying attraction. She felt her own cheeks begin to burn, and she quickly averted her eyes from Amanda's.

"Like I said... I'll be back." She managed to rasp out.

Snatching up one of the coffee cup, she spun towards the exit.

"Hey," Amanda called after her, her tone steely.

Olivia turned, narrowing her gaze to hide the shock that was still throbbing through her.

"You might need this." Amanda said, digging in her pocket.

Olivia flinched when Amanda tossed a small, white object towards her. She barely caught it, and threw Amanda a glare before she opened her palm to see the word SUGAR on the little packet.

Amanda's tone was sweet with sarcasm, and she offered Olivia a tight smile tainted with the same underlying barb, "For the bitterness."

**xxxxxx**

_Come on, don't make make me do this to you…._

Amanda stared at Olivia's empty chair, biting at one nail as the clock turned to the next minute for what felt like the hundredth time. In reality, it had been 35 minutes, and for all of those, she'd barely been able to think of something else aside from Olivia's sudden departure.

After the anger and embarrassment had dulled to a low throb in her chest, she'd realized that she should tell someone that Olivia had gone AWOL. She'd even risen from her chair, intending to find Captain Cragen and inform him that his best and brightest had disappeared into the night without so much as a word to where she was going. For ridiculous and far too emotional reasons, she'd sat back down, knowing what Olivia would face should Cragen know she'd abandoned ship in the middle of a missing child case. She'd convinced herself to give Olivia five minutes, then ten, then twenty…

Amanda was not a woman of second chances. She rarely gave someone a chance to begin with, and as each minute passed, she became increasingly frustrated and confused with herself for allowing this woman to hit her at the knees so efficiently. She'd found a perfect opportunity to retaliate, and yet she passed it up, somehow willing to extend a third and fourth chance to someone who would hardly appreciate it.

"Hey, Rollins."

Amanda started at Fin's salutation, jerking upright in the chair as he strode across the room towards her. He was balancing a laptop in one hand, and a perplexed frown marked his brow.

"What's up?" Amanda asked, struggling to even out her tone as her heart still raced.

"You know this computer stuff, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." She replied, pushing back her own laptop and notes.

"Okay, I just spoke with TARU." He said, setting the laptop down in front of her. "They're combing through Rory's online accounts and they found a chat group that he's on pretty much 24/7."

"Chat group?" She asked, leaning forward as her interest piqued.

She pulled the laptop closer, her eyes narrowing upon the display.

"Something called Discord." Fin added.

"Flower boys." She murmured.

"Huh?"

"The name of the group." Amanda pointed towards the top of the screen. "You wanna take a stab at what that means?"

"Is that some kind of code for gay?"

"I'm guessing." Amanda said, chewing her lip as she scrolled through the messages. "He's replying to this user named yurilover123 a lot. Let me see how far back this goes."

Fin straightened, silent for a moment as she scrolled through messages, before he asked, "Where's Liv?"

Amanda halted for a second, and her gaze inadvertently flicked towards the empty chair across from her.

"Um…" She breathed, caught in indecision for half a terrifying second before she blurted out, "Bathroom. She said she'd be right back."

She pinned her eyes back on the screen, hoping that Fin would take the explanation without question. As much as she liked him, she barely knew him and how much she could trust him with.

 _You barely know Olivia either._  She reminded herself with biting self derision.  _Why the fuck are you covering for_ her _?_

She clenched her jaw, and focused her eyes on the screen, relieved that Fin had not inquired further. She released a low, controlled breath, and continued to scroll while she waited for her heart to stop pounding.

"It looks like they first connected a little over a month ago." She said, directing the conversation away from Olivia and back to Rory's online life. "You know, Olivia and I thought maybe he ran off with another boy."

"With somebody he met online a  _month_  ago?" Fin questioned. "Kids these days..."

"He feels alone. Like no one understands…" Amanda murmured, scrolling back down through the messages. "And sometimes when you meet someone it feels like they turned all the lights on…"

Fin quieted and she could feel his eyes on her. Nearby, one of the hotline phones began to ring, shrill and sharp, and his presence hovered for a moment before he strode back across the room to answer the phone. She breathed out heavily when he was gone and covered her face with her hands. Her eyes were throbbing and she rubbed them hard, wishing she could scrub away the thoughts that lay behind them.

"Amanda!" Fin's sudden shout startled her, and tore her hands from her face.

He had the phone in his band, covering the speaker with one fist, a frown twisting his brow. She jumped up from the chair, her heart racing with apprehension as she neared him.

"What is it?" She whispered, breathlessly.

"Mercy General." He replied, plunging fear even deeper into her chest. "It's Rory."


	4. Chapter 4

The street lights outside of her apartment building were shining a faint, flickering yellow along the sidewalk. Had anyone else been standing beneath the sparse illumination she might not have been able to recognize their figure in the shadows.

But she'd always been able to find Elliot.

She sat at the curb, the Crown Vic idling with a grumble in the silence while she gripped the steering wheel hard enough to bleed the blood from her knuckles. She'd expected herself to fly out of the car, trip over herself on her excitement to get to him, but faced with her sudden proximity to him she felt frozen.

Maybe, it would've been easier had she not known what he would say, the conclusion they'd drawn again and again.

_I can't be with you._

She closed her eyes, her breath trembling. She'd spent half her life pushing down fear, tears, the possibility of weakness. She knew she could could pull it together for the agonizing minutes it would take to complete this task. In the end, her closure and peace of mind had always become just that - a task, a job to be finished and put in the past - to her and to everyone else.

Opening her eyes, she released a low, controlled exhale. Uncurling her fingers from the wheel, she twisted the key out of the ignition. Silence settled around, save for the beating of her own heart, the husky exhale of her breath.

Her hands were quaking, but she could feel it coming - the numbness, the compartmentalization of things she'd rather not feel, the aching acception of unhappiness that she'd learned so well. This was how her life was, and always would be.

Gritting her teeth, she threw back her seatbelt and shoved the door open. She was striding across the street, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed before she could second guess herself. She assessed his posture at her door like she would profile a criminal, seeking his hidden intent with an unflinching gaze. She'd flinched in front of him before, far too many times. She couldn't afford to do it again now.

His grey blue eyes lifted, finding hers in the lamplight, and she had to force herself to meet his gaze, fight the urge to lose her breath. He wasn't going to knock her off her feet tonight.

"I didn't think you'd come." He said, and the sound of his voice so familiar in her ears was almost too much to bear.

"Oh really?" She asked, scrounging up each bitter thought she'd had since receiving his message, as she focused on unlocking the front door. "I'm not the one who decided to leave without a goodbye."

She wrenched the key in the lock, and forcefully pushed the door open before his hand stopped her. She glanced down at his fingers on her arm, that grip so certain and unyielding. He rarely faltered, even now in the face of her disgust.

"Hey." His tone was quiet, almost kind, but she could hear the frustration.

She pursed her lips, glancing slowly up at him.

"Kathy doesn't know you're here…" She whispered in direct, husky tone, "does she?"

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but he finally glanced away with a shake of head.

"Of course not."

"How predictable." She murmured, turning her gaze back towards the front door as she pulled away from his grip.

He followed her inside, and her stomach lurched at the familiar pattern of his footsteps behind hers on the way to her apartment. They'd stopped here so many times - in between shifts, in between duties, in between fights. She'd let him invade her personal space and make it their only escape, but his home had never been hers. No, that idyllic five bedroom house in Queens was like another world, and in that world existed a woman too patient and kind to have been a victim to her husband's infidelity. Somehow, Olivia had found something more like pity than hatred for Kathy Stabler, and here at the end of things, something like solidarity.

She bit back bitter tears as she reached her apartment door, and her hands trembled as she fumbled for her keys. In the dark, through her tears, she could barely make out which one was which before the whole ring slipped from her uncoordinated grip.

"Damnit." She hissed under her breath, beginning to bend, but Elliot was quicker.

He scooped the keys up from the ground before she could make the same gesture, and they straightened in unison, gazes locked. She stared at him for a moment before making a move to snatch them back from him. With precise reflexes he ducked his hand away from hers, holding the keys up at his shoulder in a position that would be too awkward to grab for again.

"I've got it." He offered, gesturing to the lock.

She clenched her jaw and stepped back, resisting the raw, volatile anger inside her that wished to scream and shove him with all her might. But she'd done that before, and little had come of it besides a sore throat and feeling of pathetic shame.

She watched him deftly unlock the door, and motion for her to step in ahead of him.

"Thank you." She muttered, stepping past him as a much different response echoed in her mind behind the spoken one.

_Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid, ingrained chivalry. Fuck your "family values" and Catholic bullshit._

She'd had all these thoughts and more so many times before when entering her apartment as they did now, though she wouldn't dare to hope that it would end where it had in the past - with her bent over her couch, her pants bunched around her knees, his hands firm and lustful around her hips. Their relationship had always been tumultuous, verging on collapse at every second, but the churning of her stomach no longer forewarned the excitement of doing something they shouldn't. The nausea twisting her insides to knots and the sweat lining her flesh beneath her shirt were but harbingers of danger and heartbreak.

The door shut behind her, and for a moment she couldn't turn and look at him. How could she so simply watch him exist inside her apartment again, knowing that it might be the last time?

"Did you get my gift?" Elliot asked softly.

She pressed her eyes shut, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Semper Fi." She whispered, her voice escaping on a raspy note from her trembling lips.

Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes and stared upwards as she tried to control the emotion battering her strongholds.

"Liv." He murmured, his footsteps drawing near.

She steeled herself as his hand touched her arm again, resisting his nudge for her to turn and face him. She knew she had to at some point. She  _demanded_  that he give her the dignity of an explanation, but she hadn't imagined that it would be so unbearable facing him and the truth. She was the other woman, and she always had been. Nothing more and nothing less.

"Listen to me," Elliot insisted in her ear. "I love you. I always have in some way or another."

She pulled her arm out of his grip as the bitter pain of his words cut deep into her chest. Even in their most passionate moments he'd never had the courage to say that to her, nor the balls to admit that at times it was more than what he had with his own wife. Now, he'd pacify her with some watered down version of the truth, and expect her to be grateful for it?

"Should I fall down on my knees and kiss your feet now?" She snapped, spinning around to glare at him with a fiery, watery gaze.

"What? No." His reply was indignant, and she could already see the frustration building itself up into tight knots in his shoulders.

"You bastard." She whispered, her jaw locked up as tight as his fists.

They were already hurtling towards dangerous ground, and she knew it could end much worse than it ever had before, but she didn't care. He needed to know how he'd hurt her more than anyone ever had. He needed to listen to every venomous word and accusation until he finally took responsibility. God knew he never had. The blame had always landed on her shoulders, and sat there even now, weighing her down with dark and insidious chains.

"What do you want, Liv?" Elliot snapped, throwing out his hands. "You called. I came. What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to admit that you're a coward." Her voice rose to a broken shout as she stabbed her finger at him, trembling with indignation and heartache. "I want you to say that I didn't deserve what you did to me. I want to hear that you loved me, more than you ever loved her, but you weren't man enough to treat either of us right!"

In the darkness of the apartment his expression seemed etched of stone, unmovable, untouchable. Nothing she could say could possibly change reality, and yet as he stared back her, silent and unyielding, she prayed for the rocky edges of his brow and jaw to cave. She wished she'd see some essence of familiarity, but he'd cut himself off from her. He'd decided what he was going to do, and the distinct feeling that this would be the last time she ever saw him planted itself inside her head.

"You know I can't do that." He finally replied, his stormy eyes holding hers as he completed her fears.

She felt herself crumbling, the air escaping from her lungs beneath the weight of devastation.

"Oh my God…" She whispered, turning away as the dizzy, numbing sensations spread up her chest and face.

Clasping her hand over her face, she swayed on her feet. Everything that had been real and good for the past 12 years of her life was crashing down around her, while the understanding that she had been little more than plaything rose to engulf her.

"Liv…"

When he touched her shoulder, she recoiled, her stomach nearly revolting against her. Spinning around, she slammed her hands into the solid wall of his chest, and released a ragged sob.

"Get away from me." She seethed, her hair flung wildly in her face as stray tears raged in her eyes.

Shock washed across his face as she jostled him backwards. His hands were lifted in surrender because a man like him knew the consequences of returning the violent gesture. He wouldn't raise a hand to her, but in the moment, she could not find the morality to care. She shoved him again, then again and again, until he was backed against the wall, his eyes flickering with anger. His restraint was tenuous, and she could see him barely holding onto it with clenched fists and jaw. She could feel it beneath her palms where she'd pinned him, holding him down like he'd done to her a thousand times.

 _Good_. She thought, vengefully.  _Maybe now he'll know how I feel._

"I think it would be a good idea if you let me go." He managed at last, his tone strung tight like a rubber band ready to snap. "Right now."

She stared back him, and for the first time in what felt like her entire life, he looked like a stranger.

"I don't know who you are." She whispered, her hands weakening at his chest until they slid limply to her sides.

He seemed as if he wanted to respond for a second, but then he slipped away from the wall, leaving her to gaze at the empty space where he had been.

His footsteps retreated towards the door, and she could see him hesitate, his hand on the knob. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't watch him leave. Not like this. Not when their closure had always gotten lost somewhere between I love you and goodbye.

"Liv."

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, but she couldn't look over at him. She knew what he was going to tell her before he even opened his mouth.

"We can't do this again."

Her eyes burned, and she sank forward against the wall, the plaster cold against her palms. He waited for her to speak an agreement, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Finally, when her silence grew too heavy for either of them to bear, he opened the door. In seconds, the wall was vibrating beneath her fingers as the door slammed shut behind him; then he was gone. Again. Forever.

**xxxxxxxx**

The boy in the bed didn't look like Rory.

Surely, the horrors that had befallen the person lying in the Mercy General Hospital would not befall a 14 year old, especially the one that reached into Amanda's heart and held on for dear life for the past seven hours.

 _Are you sure?_ Amanda wanted to ask the doctor once more even as she held Rory's subway card in her hand. The plastic, laminated edges were worn, cutting into her palm as she clenched her fingers tight around the evidence.

But the doctor had been gone for several minutes, leaving her and Fin to stand over the frail figure with the knowledge that another life had been irreparably damaged on their watch. At least, that was how Amanda saw it.

 _Multiple lacerations and contusions._  The doctor's words echoed in her head.  _Concussion. Fractured nose._   _Evidence of sexual assault-_

"We should call his mother."

Fin had been silent next to her, and his softly spoken suggestion rattled Amanda's barely composed concentration.

She swallowed the knot in her throat before whispering, "We don't need her consent to talk to him."

"She needs to know we found her son."

Amanda pressed her eyes shut for a second before sinking down on the hard, vinyl chair behind her.

The truth was she wanted nothing to do with telling that poor woman that her son had beaten, raped, and found sobbing on the wrong side of the Brooklyn Bridge's railing. She could hardly even fathom the thought of saying the words out loud without losing what was left of her dinner and the two cups of coffee that lingered in her stomach. She'd seen crime in Atlanta, more than she cared to admit, but maybe she hadn't been prepared for the certain type of brutality that New York City offered.

 _Or maybe…_  She involuntarily wondered.  _He permanently damaged you forever…._

"I'll make the call." Fin decided when she remained slumped in the chair.

He turned and exited the room, allowing the bustle and hum of the hospital to flood inside for a moment before the heavy door fell shut again.

Amanda's lids flickered open, and she reached up to quickly dash away the tear that clung to her lower lashes.

"Who...who are you?" Rory's voice was raspy, startling her.

She glanced up quickly to see his pale, bruised face tilted in her direction. His swollen eyes were barely slits in his face, but she could hardly stand the innocent gaze.

She sat forward, and pulled her badge from her pocket. She showed it to him with a forced a smile.

"My name's Amanda. I'm with the police, Rory. You're in Mercy General Hospital."

His throat bobbed sharply, and his brow furrowed beneath the gauze which encircled his head like a puffy, white halo.

"Do you remember what happened?" She asked, doing her best to ignore the aching throb in her chest.

His dry, cracked lips tightened and he turned his face towards the ceiling. He lay there silent and stiff, a corpse of his former self, a barely re-animated shell. If the passing cyclist hadn't noticed him hanging off the side of the bridge he would be dead without a doubt, and in the moment, Amanda could hardly blame him for wanting such a merciful end.

"Rory." Amanda whispered, rising from the chair.

She approached him tentatively, and gripped the metal railing at the side of the bed to control the tremble which had taken over her fingers.

"I found your Discord chat." She finally continued. "I know you were talking to a boy. I know you're gay."

He flinched, a quick, visceral reaction that seemed to pain the injuries inflicted to his face and body. He tilted his head further away from her, and she could see the tear slipping down his cheek.

"It's okay." She murmured, reaching to gently touch his arm. "I understand."

He tucked his arm away from, seeming to fold into himself even further.

"I know it doesn't feel like anyone understands, but believe it or not I've been in your shoes." Amanda murmured, despite his resistance.

His posture remained rigid for a moment before glanced over at her slowly. The mangled state of his young face struck her again, and she clenched her jaw, taking in a deep breath through her nose.

"That's right." She whispered, reaching deep for a reassuring smile. "You don't have to hide with me. We're on the same team."

He blinked slowly for a moment, and she could see him processing her words and the understanding that he was safe. Then, his expression crumpled.

"You're okay…" Amanda murmured the reassurance, reaching to rub his arm again as a sob slipped from his lips. She wondered who was reassuring more - herself or Rory.

"They tricked me." He whimpered at last. "They pretended to be someone online, and I...I thought…"

Amanda's heart beat faster with a rush of anger, and she yanked out her notebook. Flipping through the pages, she found the note she'd made about the Discord chat before the phone call had come from Mercy General.

"Yurilover123?" She asked when she had found the scribble.

Rory nodded, tears escaping those swollen, sad eyes.

"He told me he went to my school, and I started getting notes in my locker." He sobbed. "I thought maybe I'd found someone who actually understood…. Then, they started saying we should meet…"

"In the notes in the locker?" Amanda asked, trembling in rage that whoever had assaulted Rory had been smart enough to keep the location untraceable.

Rory nodded, choking in halting breaths. Reaching down, Amanda took his hand, and squeezed.

"Do you know who they are?" She whispered, holding his watery gaze.

His mouth quaked, tears slipping down his black and blue cheek, but he nodded, his fingers clenching around Amanda's

"Tell me, Rory." Amanda urged, her body churning hot for justice. "Tell me who did this to you."


	5. Chapter 5

It felt like hours since Olivia had left the precinct, and days since she had slept. Exhaustion and agony seemed to vibrate into every inch of flesh and bone in her body as she trudged up the front steps and to the elevator of the 16th.

Once inside, she sank against the wall, and tilted her head back as the carriage began to sway under her. Holding onto the railing, she barely held herself steady as the elevator chugged steadily upwards. She'd barely contemplated the consequences of her actions until this moment, and even now, it was hard to focus on anything but the emotional pain.

 _Ding!_ The elevator cheerily chimed, and her burning, puffy eyes jarred open.

The door groaned open in front of her, and she balked at the sight of the precinct ahead of her. She had no desire to walk into her place of work in her present state of distress but she had no other choice. She'd already abandoned her post for an unapproved, ill advised excursion, and she could not simply go MIA for the rest of the evening - or rather, morning.

Light had begun to touch the sky as she'd traversed back towards downtown, and as she had stared up at the golden clouds, she'd wondered what a new day could possibly hold. What good could possibly come of this morning, birthed from such a treacherous night?

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed away from the wall, and ducked her chin. She marched ahead, preparing what she'd say to Amanda in her head, but when she entered the squad room, it was eerily silent. She came to stand at the entrance of the room, and the silvery letters on the wall which spelled out  _Manhattan Special Victims Unit_ presided over her with unquestionable judgment. A phone rang shrilly, but there was no one to answer it.

The frantic commotion that had filled the room upon her departure was gone, and Olivia's heart began to sink. There was only one reason that the team of investigators would have left, and Olivia knew instantly that they'd found Rory. The question of whether he was dead or alive churned her stomach into a pit of dread, and the reality of how selfish she'd been by abandoning him dawned fully upon her without an ounce of mercy.

Numbly, she wandered past the abandoned desks towards the round table. Amanda's laptop was still open, her notes and pen tossed aside as though she'd left in a hurry. Rory's school photo glared back at her from the center of their workspace with eyes full of sadness and fear. She sank down to the chair, and grabbed the photo with a trembling hand, grasping her aching forehead with her other hand.

 _What am I doing?_ She asked herself.

Her lids quavered shut over burgeoning tears, and her shoulders began to shudder as the whole weight of the previous hours collapsed upon her. A raw, aching sob interrupted the silence, and she dropped the picture to clasp her hand over her contorted lips.

Even in solitude, she couldn't let herself shatter. She'd shed enough tears for herself to last a lifetime, but not a single one for Rory. What had become of her passion for the victims or her compassion for the downtrodden? She'd lost her way somewhere between loneliness and the false illusion of love.

The minutes ticked by, passing unnoticed until she found herself slumped over the table, her tears collecting into cold pools on the surface beneath her face. The paths from which they'd fallen were dried upon her cheeks and consciousness came and went until the presence of another human being startled her back to full awareness.

She sat up at the sound of the elevator opening and footsteps in the hall. In her disorientation, she couldn't make out words, but she recognized Fin and Amanda's voices as they drew closer.

She sat you quickly, and scrubbed her hands over her face, her heart pounding. She didn't want to turn and face them, though she knew it was inevitable.

Amanda's voice halted abruptly, mid sentence, and Olivia knew she'd been seen. She clutched the arms of the chair, trying to convince herself to stand up and present some sort of composed appearance; but Amanda's chastisement was quicker.

"Benson." Her tone was sharp, and the sound of her boots hitting the floor, clipped and decisive, converged upon her. "What the hell?"

Olivia clenched her jaw, her fingers cinching tighter around the arms of the chair as Amanda loomed over her. Her full, pouting lips were drawn tight in displeasure, her soft brows coiled into a deep frown, and her eyes - her kind, sparkling, cerulean eyes - were dark as a sky which warned of thunder. The lightning that followed soon after was sure to sting and burn.

"Where were you? It's been…." She consulted her watch sarcastically, "almost four hours."

Olivia stared at the whiteboard ahead of her, unable to lift her eyes. All she could do was hope to God she wouldn't cry in front of the younger detective, the one she'd labeled as inexperienced and ineffective.

"Jesus." Amanda breathed. "I  _covered_ for you, you know, and you can't even give me an answer. I think I deserve one this time."

Olivia ducked her head, and pressed her eyes shut, pursed her lips, tried not scream with the agony that invaded every cell and particle of her body. She knew Amanda was right. Maybe, she'd been right all along, but how was she supposed to stand up and admit that?

"Wow." Amanda commented, her tone biting and disgusted. "Just… wow."

Olivia felt a tear slip from her eye as Amanda turned away and began to gather her laptop and notes from the desk. She could feel the enraged energy rolling off of the other woman in waves, and she felt like she drowning in it. Somehow, it made her just want to fling herself into those ocean eyes, and accept her fate.

"You're right." The words croaked from her throat, and when Amanda spun towards her, she met the roiling sea head-on.

 _Please, I don't know how to swim_. She thought as Amanda stared her down, seemingly struck mute with shock by Olivia's agreement.

They stared at each other for what felt like minutes, and Olivia wanted to crumple down into the desk again, but she supposed Amanda's judgemental, unflinching gaze was just the beginning of her punishment - and it was time to stop running from it.

At last, Amanda broke their gazes, and grabbed her black, leather shoulder bag, and began to shove her laptop inside.

"Well, if you care, Rory's at Mercy Hospital." She said, her voice trembling beneath the anger and indignation.

Olivia's stomach dropped once more at the mention of Rory and his condition. She could at least absolve herself with the fact that he was alive, but after nearly fifteen years on the job she knew that just because someone was alive did not mean they weren't damaged beyond repair. In some ways, she believed there were fates worse than death, and she did not want to imagine that a teenage boy had become a victim of one of those fates - or that she was responsible for it.

"Is...is he okay?" She asked, breathlessly, as the desperation finally pushed her out of the chair.

She was reaching out for Amanda's arm in supplication before she could stop herself, and Amanda seemed to freeze beneath her at the contact, her hands poised over the zipper of her bag.

Her eyes flicked upwards, and Olivia found herself close enough to make out the nuances of her blue irises and the dilation of her pulsing pupils. The last time they'd been this close, only hours before when Amanda had suggested she needed little more than ass beating, Olivia had felt an overwhelming attraction that she'd quickly dismissed - or rather, hoped to dismiss. This time, all she saw was repulsion.

She slowly released Amanda's arm, and clenched her tingling fingers into a fist. The strike of that lightning hadn't failed to sear her flesh. She'd only prayed it'd be a little more kind.

"He's the victim of a hate crime. He was beaten and raped by multiple boys from his school." Amanda bit out the words, her lips curled in disgust. "A cyclist found him hanging off the side of a bridge trying to kill himself. Is that what you wanted?"

"N-no…" Olivia whispered, tears rising quickly in her eyes, and she clutched her hand over her chest as the pain there deepened to an unbearable measure. "Never."

"Well, you sure as hell didn't do anything to stop it." Amanda snapped, roughly yanking her bag over shoulder before she turned on her heel.

She strode across the room, and Olivia's wide, watery gaze followed her until she shouldered her way past Fin. His typically cool, composed expression was wrought with shock and concern, and Olivia immediately felt even more humiliated than before.

"Oh, god…" She barely whispered, turning away from him, and clasping her hands over her face.

Long, painful seconds passed, her breathing was loud in her ears, until the sound of a new voice speaking her name intruded upon her panicked delirium.

"Olivia."

It was the Captain.

Her heart stuttered over a beat, and she scraped her hands away from her face. She fisted her fingers at her side, her jaw working as she tried to gather the courage to turn and face him.

"Fin, go home." She heard Cragen address the other detective in a quieter tone.

Pressing her knuckles against the table, she leaned hard on the surface until she heard Fin's footsteps retreat without resistance.

The ass whooping that Amanda had vehemently wished upon her was about to become a reality, and as much as she hated Cragen regarding her with anything but a kind eye, she knew she deserved more than he'd ever want to punish her with. He'd still find some way to be kind, even when she'd fucked up beyond forgiveness.

She listened to the elevator doors shutting, then the whirring of the cables as it whisked Fin to the floor below. They were alone.

"Liv, come in my office." Cragen spoke after a moment of silence, a barely recognizable apprehension lining his voice - but she heard it all the same.

Then his footsteps retreated, and she had no choice but to follow.

**xxxxxxxx**

Amanda hadn't been in New York City long enough to have a go-to bar, but a quick Google search brought up a dozen or more options from which to choose.

Logically, she knew that after such a harrowing night she should go home and sleep; but rest wouldn't kill this restlessness inside of her. Dreams couldn't begin to touch the nightmare of the past few hours, and neither could they erase Olivia from her mind.

So she did what she always did when she wanted to escape. She placed herself firmly at a barstool, drink in hand, eyes trained on the game playing on the TV above. She tried to forget it all in exchange for the bad habits she'd sworn to leave in Atlanta.

She'd tried so hard to be a good girl for the past three weeks in hopes of changing the destructive path her life seemed to have taken, but it didn't come as easy as it once had. She didn't miss much about Georgia, but right about now she was terribly missing the local dives where she could hide amongst the civilians and away from the typical cop hangouts. She'd taken a perverse pleasure in dressing in plainclothes, ditching her tin and taking up a stool between folks like a truck driver or a farmer, who didn't care whether she was worth her salt in a tactical situation or not. They'd try in vain to sweet talk her, plying her with drinks and flatteries until she slipped through their fingers with a demure smile.

Sitting alone at the bar in New York City, Amanda got the feeling that no such camaraderie would be found here. The people here bustled by, too quickly to remember, talking on their cells and ignoring whoever happened to be close by. The service was quick and polite, but no one lingered.

Amanda's mood grew increasingly grim as she sipped at her drink and distractedly watched the baseball game that seemed to drag on forever. It wasn't her favorite sport. She preferred football and the horse races, and she wasn't even in a betting mood tonight. Olivia had effectively sucked every ounce of compulsion and concentration from her bones.

_And Rory…_

She cringed as his bruised, broken face crossed her mind, and swallowed back another gulp of her whiskey.

She couldn't help but bitterly - and maybe, illogically - think that if Olivia hadn't abandoned the investigation things would be different.

She felt so stupid for her juvenile fascination of Benson, when all she had to go on was her statistics and reputation. She'd entertained the ridiculous crush for far too long upon realizing just how tall and beautiful she was in real life. Newspaper articles and TV clips didn't do much justice to her stunning appearance, but now Amanda supposed they didn't do much justice to her attitude either.

 _Time to get over it_. She told herself, tossing back the last of her drink.

She was contemplating adding to her tab when the decision was abruptly made for her.

"Another one for her, the same for me."

Amanda spun when Olivia's voice shattered her loop of bitter thoughts and she stuttered over a proper response as the very woman of her thoughts sat down on the stool next to her. She'd tied her hair back at her nape, and the fall wind had whisked a few strands from the binding to frame her flushed cheeks. Most of her make up had been smeared off, and Amanda could see the red rimming her eyes and blotching her nose her and cheeks.

"What are you doing here, Benson?" She asked, ignoring the distant instinct to sympathize.

Whatever trouble she'd gotten herself into with Cragen was well-deserved, and Amanda reminded herself that she should've disclosed Olivia's disappearance to him immediately.

"Is it a crime to have a drink at a bar?" Olivia asked before accepting the drink from the waiter with a soft thanks.

Amanda scoffed as a fresh drink was placed in front of her. The fact that Olivia was buying her a drink was ridiculously amusing in an odd way. A few days ago, if Olivia had bought her a drink, she would've been giddy with happiness and more than a little head over heels. Now, it was just laughable.

"There's at least ten bars like a mile from here." Amanda returned, annoyed. "Please, don't tell me this is a coincidence."

"Maybe." Olivia said, simply, sipping her drink. "But we're here now, and I think I owe you an apology."

Amanda glanced over quickly, surprised at Olivia's soft tone and her sudden willingness to admit how wrong she'd been.

 _Don't get too excited._ She told herself, snidely, hoping to slow the skip and stutter of her heart in her chest.

"Is this because Cragen came down on you?" She asked, snatching up the drink.

"Yes and no." Olivia replied, surprising Amanda once more with her honesty. "I'm taking a week to 'think about my actions'. Unpaid."

"Wow." Amanda finally replied, attempting to keep an even, disinterested tone. "Maybe you did just need an ass whooping."

Olivia scoffed, but didn't protest. She was quiet for another moment although Amanda could sense the words crowding behind her lips.

"I think you need to understand that this squad is like family." Olivia said, slowly at last, "We've all worked together for many years. I guess, this is the first time we've had to deal with change."

"You keep saying  _we_." Amanda interrupted, "But so far you're the only person who I've had a problem with. Munch and Fin have been great, they've even stood up for me. But  _you…_." She glanced away and stared down at her drink with a cynical chuckle, "Not what I expected from New York's Finest."

Olivia nodded, slowly, gazing down at the bar.

"You're right." She murmured. "My behavior has been less than…. desirable."

Amanda glanced up, slightly taken aback. Olivia had offered an apology, but her complete admission of wrongdoing caught Amanda off guard.

"I'm sure you know about Elliot by this point." Olivia said at last, her fingers wrapping tightly around her glass.

"Yeah, your partner." Amanda replied as she gathered her composure.

"Yes." Olivia affirmed, pausing for a moment, her lips pursing. "We were together for twelve years."

Amanda shifted on the stool, suddenly uncomfortable with the depth of emotion in Olivia's tone. She knew they'd been close, but something about the way that Olivia spoke and the look in her eyes told Amanda that there was much more to this story than a workplace bond.

"That's a long time." Amanda nodded, keeping her tone neutral although she could sense where the topic was headed.

"That's longer than you've been on the job." Olivia pointed out, her voice hardening against sudden tears. "There were days when all we saw were each other's face. Nights when we couldn't go home… So I made a mistake. The stupidest mistake you can make when it comes to a married man."

 _Jesus Christ._ Amanda thought, staring at the woman next to her.  _He did a number on you._

Olivia's typically straight shoulders were hunched, her unfaltering expression of confidence crumbled beneath heartache and shattered dreams. With her hands clenched around glass of whiskey, she was barely keeping her emotions in check.

"You deserve to know why I have acted the way I have." Olivia whispered. "But the truth is, you can't possibly understand."

"I think I have a pretty good idea."

Olivia laughed, a soft, mirthless tone, "An idea...and nothing more."

Silence bloomed between them, and the hum of the patrons and the cheering the the TV filled the space for a long minute while Amanda tried to wrap her mind around the new information. She was floored by the entire conversation and extremely aware of how intimately detailed it was becoming. She'd wanted an explanation for Olivia's behavior, and perhaps this made the most sense, but it still didn't excuse what had happened last night.

"I just want you to understand that it's been hard for me to accept this." Olivia finally said. "When I look over, I still expect to see him sitting there. Instead….it's you."

"Okay." Amanda replied after a moment as she massaged one aching temple. "Say I accept that. What about tonight?"

Olivia hardly looked up at her, letting the silence drag on until Amanda was ready to ask a second time. Finally, she shifted and slipped her hand into coat pocket. She pulled out the NYPD badge and tossed it down between them. It spun around on it's leather back for a moment before twirling slowly to a stop in front of Amanda.

She flicked a confused gaze in Olivia's direction, before slowly picking it up. She rubbed her thumb over the silver face, noting that the badge number did not match Olivia's - or any of the other detectives for that matter.

"Semper Fi." Olivia whispered with a scoff before she took a long drink of the whiskey.

"This was Elliot's?" Amanda gathered, placing the badge hesitantly back on the table.

She felt like she was holding something intimate and breakable, like she was invading Olivia's privacy; but she supposed she'd already done that by forcing this conversation.

"He sent it to me a few weeks after he put in his papers." Olivia replied, her eyes following the baseball game above as though she were simply commenting on the pitcher's form; but underneath each syllable was raw and scratchy. "I'd been calling him over and over again, but he never answered. Not until last night."

She still hadn't retrieved the badge. It sat on the counter between them, slowly losing it's shimmer until it stared back at Amanda like an abomination.

"So he said 'jump'…" Amanda trailed off quietly.

"And I said how high." Olivia finished with a weary sigh. "Another stupid mistake."

She shook her head, and took another long drink of the whiskey, grimacing as the liquid went down. Amanda watched her, her throat bobbing gently up and down, her full lips trembling, and the vulnerability of the woman in front of her seized her with an unceasing grip.

All along she'd thought that Olivia had formed the wrong impression of her, but with the truth of Elliot's departure coming to light, Amanda was beginning to wonder if she was the one who hadn't had all the facts. She'd been the victim of man's ruthless ego more than once, and despite the way Olivia had treated her, she could not help but feel pity when she looked at her now.

Without a word, she reached over and slid her hand over Olivia's wrist. Guiding her hand away from the glass, she intertwined their fingers and gave her a squeeze. Olivia's hand was stiff beneath her own for a second, and Amanda glanced up to meet her untrusting and suspicious gaze.

"I'm sorry." Amanda murmured, giving her hand a second squeeze.

Olivia brow wrinkled and she glanced away, but not before Amanda could see the gleam of tears in her eyes.

"Yeah." She whispered, huskily, at last, "Me too."

Her hand slipped quickly away from Amanda's, shattering what small bit of intimacy that had formed between their clasped palms. She stood from the stool, taking Elliot's badge with her, and threw back the last sip of her drink. Her hands were trembling as she rifled through her pockets for a few dollar bills and tossed them on to the bar top.

Amanda watched her, her hand tingling in the wake of short embrace. She wanted terribly to stop her, pull her back into her seat, and explain she'd wanted to have her back from the beginning, but the words stayed nestled in her throat, too afraid to see the light of day: and as Olivia escaped from her, disappearing into the fragile morning light, Amanda wondered if they ever would.


	6. Chapter 6

There'd been times over the past month that Amanda has intensely wished that Olivia Benson did not exist in her universe, and moments where she'd believed she'd be much happier without the other woman in her life. After the Rory Halstead case, she'd thought that those feelings would only intensify. It only taken one drink at a bar and one week of separation to bleach that imagination from her mind.

She was shocked at how quickly she'd subconsciously forgiven Olivia for what she'd deemed the unforgivable, and despite her and Olivia's rocky start, the week of Olivia's suspension dragged on, unbearably slow. Her absence meticulously carved holes into Amanda's every thought, and dug it's way to her heart. She'd find herself glancing towards Olivia's desk, expecting to see here there; or pick up the phone with the intention of asking her opinion on some piece of evidence or another. As much as she loathed to admit it SVU was not the same without Olivia Benson.

She could not put her from her mind, and the more she tried to stop thinking about it, the worse it became. She mulled over her and Olivia's conversation in the bar for what felt like a hundred times, trying to find the moment where Olivia had accepted her olive branch of hand holding, but she couldn't. She knew she was deluding herself. That short intertwining of their fingers may be the first and last time she was ever so close to Olivia, and she should be happy with the apology and explanation of her behavior.

 _A professional relationship should be enough_ , she told herself.  _Anything more would be a foolish daydream._

Still, the day that Olivia was scheduled to return to work, Amanda found herself especially motivated to clock in. She arrived early, two cups of coffee balanced on the cardboard tray. She'd picked up the drinks from a cafe down the street that she knew Olivia frequented, and after tasting her own, she deduced that she had excellent taste.

She placed Olivia's drink on her desk, and took a seat, her heart racing shallowly in her chest. The last time she'd gotten coffee for Olivia they'd ended up at each other's throats with Olivia landing a far too poignantly placed barb right in her jugular.

 _Oh, don't you wish you could touch me?_  The sound of Olivia's voice and the flushed, incensed look upon her face was intimately seared into Amanda mind as was the following expression of shock as they both felt the impact of those words.

 _Yes, yes I do…_  The honest truth would never see the light of day, but as Amanda watched Olivia's desk that morning, she imagined what might happen if it did.

Her mind wandered away from her to an alternate universe where Olivia was trapping her against the wall, her body and warm and plush, ripe for tasting. Her breath would be sweet and minty, her lips pink and hungry; and when her fingers slipped down the front of Amanda's jeans it would be the most gentle torture she'd ever felt, the most intense pleasure she'd-

"What's this?"

Amanda started, gasping aloud as Olivia's brash tone interrupted the explicit scenario galavanting through her mind, unbridled. She nearly knocked over her cup of coffee in the midst of the scare, her heart pounding until her cheeks were burning red.

"Christ." Amanda cursed, breathlessly, clutching her chest. "You scared me."

Olivia brow rose as she took in Amanda's reaction with a bemused expression.

"I didn't mean to." She replied as she laid her coat of the back of her chair, and sat down.

Amanda's heart barely slowed as she regained her composure enough to inspect Olivia's appearance. The sight of her felt like water on a parched mouth - or in Amanda's case, a much different set of hungry lips. The cowl neck of the beige, cashmere sweater hung in low, shifting folds just above her breasts, teasing Amanda's mind as though Olivia had put it on just for her. Her long, voluminous hair was barely contained in the clip at the back for her head, and the tousled tresses were already escaping the teeth. With one little pinch of the hair piece, every strand would come tumbling down around her jaw and neck-

"What's this?" Olivia repeated, startling Amanda with the same words a second time.

"Um, I… They accidently gave me two." Amanda stuttered with a shrug. "I figured why not take it? They were just gonna throw it away anyways."

She'd planned on being truthful, and offering Olivia the coffee in return for the drink she'd bought her at the bar. With Olivia staring her down, however, her courage withered to nothing.

Olivia's eyes narrowed slightly, and she turned the cup around as though inspecting it for the validity of Amanda's answer. Amanda watched her, hardly able to breathe as Olivia took a slow sip and savored it in her mouth before swallowing.

"English toffee, two creams, two sugars." She commented at last, licking a small drop off from her upper lip. "You drink your coffee black, Rollins."

"I…." Amanda choked, a second flush rising on her cheeks, and throbbing through her chest and neck.

"Look, Amanda." Olivia interrupted her, her tone guarded with a strain of weariness flowing underfoot. "I think we can both agree we got off on the wrong foot, but I can buy my own coffee… okay?"

Amanda blinked quickly, her mouth falling open at Olivia's solid rejection. A week of suspension and proper punishment certainly hadn't dulled the sharp bite of her tongue nor the impact that it had on Amanda's fledging desires for a friendship (or something more).

"I… I was just trying to be nice." Amanda finally replied in an indignant whisper. "After what you told me, I -"

"Forget what I told you." Olivia cut her off, coldly. "It's nothing we need to talk about ever again."

She flipped open her laptop, and began to sign into the NYPD database without a second glance at Amanda's flabbergasted expression.

 _Rude, dismissive, ungrateful_   _bitch._  The words were at the tip of Amanda's tongue, her heart racing with renewed vehemence.

She'd spent all week fantasizing about the possibility of a working relationship with Olivia -and other less proper things- only to be shot down and trampled within seconds of Olivia's return. It was as if their conversation in the bar had never even happened. Or, at least, that was how Olivia seemed to want it. She was straight back to condescending to and invalidating Amanda at every turn.

"What is your problem?" The accusation flew from Amanda's lips before she could stall the urge to snap.

Olivia's shoulders tensed, and her jaw clenched as she stared steadfastly at the computer screen for a long, unbearable moment.

"What's  _my_ problem?" She finally replied in a strained tone, her dark gaze lifting with a stormy warning in the taut sneer of her lips.

"Yes." Amanda breathed, her heart racing shallowly in her chest with adrenaline, a mixture of anger and anxiety, indignation and disappointment.

Olivia stared back at her, silent and steaming, as though she could hardly believe Amanda's gull. In truth, neither could Amanda, but she couldn't take it back now, and the idea of giving Olivia a taste of her own bitter medicine was far too appealing to deny.

Amanda shoved up from her desk, trembling from head to toe with the rush of enraged epinephrine.

"I came in here with nothing but a cooperative, positive attitude and you've done nothing but ignore me or patronize me!" She continued, stabbing her finger against the desk. "I even offered my adoration and you  _barely_ acknowledged that!"

"This isn't a daycare, Rollins." Olivia returned, her typically smooth forehead gnarling in vehemence. "This is the NYPD and we don't have time for childish games."

"Right," Amanda retorted, "because I  _totally_  asked for you to hold my hand through the first case! Are you fucking kidding me? If it wasn't for me we wouldn't have caught Brian Smith! It was my old case that brought it all together and all you cared to do was stomp on some damn good police work!"

"You were having tunnel vision." Olivia ground out. "The first mistake of any rookie cop is to assume the guilt of one person and ignore other clues!"

"And  _you_  were convinced it was his twin just as well as I was!" Amanda replied, her face pulsing hot with indignation.

She couldn't believe the gull of the other detective. She wasn't even sure that anyone else had ever treated her with so little respect when it came to her skill as a detective.

"Let's not even get started on your hypocrisy!" She seethed, the pent of anger and frustration spilling from her with all the force of a gushing waterfall. "I'm getting the same lack of respect and sexism from you as I was from the boys in Atlanta, and let me tell you, I'm really fucking disappointed!"

"Oh, honey..." Olivia laughed, turning away in disbelief.

"Don't fucking call me honey." Amanda sneered. "You've spent so much time in this squad, having all these guys -  _Elliot -_  wrapped around your finger, their eyes following your ass wherever you go….it's gone to your head."

"Are you serious?" Olivia brows rose, shock smearing across her face in a satisfying splash.

"Maybe you're upset that you're too old to be the honey traps now, and you're not fresh enough to view these cases with an unbiased eye. Maybe you're mad that he isn't here to stroke your ego - and your pus-"

"Stop. Stop right there." Olivia snapped, holding up a trembling finger as she shot up from her desk. "You're going way too far, detective."

Amanda backed down, breathing hard. Maybe her filter had slipped a little from her mouth, but she wasn't upset that she conjured such a response. Something honest and raw from Olivia was refreshing.

The rattling of the Captain's office door shattered their deadlock, and Cragen emerged, his brow furled as he stormed out to glare at them.

"Benson, Rollins." He ground out, his incensed gaze bouncing between them. "Both of you, get in here. Now."

 _Damnit._ Amanda thought, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as Cragen turned and disappeared into his office once more. In the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten where she was, and the consequences of letting herself say all the things that she'd been thinking for four goddamn weeks.

Olivia's gaze was accusatory as she kicked her chair back, and headed towards the office, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, her lips drawn in a tight, displeased line.

"Fuck." Amanda whispered to herself, her stomach flipping over as she trailed after Olivia.

"Close the door." Cragen ordered as Amanda entered.

She followed his order, and eased the door shut behind her. Her heart was thundering with apprehension, and she she knew she'd fucked up by letting Olivia get the better of her. She hadn't regretted her words when Liv had been the only one to hear her, but now the humiliation of Cragen hearing every vile thing she'd said worked it's way across her chest and face in throbbing swatches of heat.

"Stand right here." Cragen pointed to the space in front of his desk, his eyes flashing with frustration. "At attention."

"Captain." Olivia broke from her rebellious, cross- armed stance with a shocked tone.

"No." Cragen held up a dismissive hand. "You two wanna act like rookies I will treat you like one."

Amanda glanced at Olivia's expression of disbelief, and Olivia caught her gaze with a glare. Her jaw was working, and Amanda could guess that it had been a damn long time since she'd answered to a drill sergeant. Amanda, on the other hand, had been answering for her wayward tongue since she'd been able to talk. She still remembered Mama whacking her with a wooden spoon for talking back. Standing at attention and taking a tongue lashing would no doubt be just as painful in some way or another, but she'd learned it was best to simply shut up and buckle down rather than resist.

 _Let's just get this over with._ She thought, hoping Olivia would do the same.

She followed Cragen's order, and clenched the seam of her pants between her thumb and forefinger, staring off at his certification of command hanging on the wall beyond them. She heard Olivia release a low sound of disgust before she fell into place next to Amanda, their shoulders nearly brushing. Amanda barely stopped herself from flinching at the contact, and she clenched her jaw, the knot tightening in her throat.

"Now." Cragen said, folding his arms and leaning against the desk. "I've been very lenient."

Amanda felt Olivia tense almost indistinctly, and she knew that she wanted to protest. Unfortunately, standing at attention meant no talking, no facial expressions, and next to no blinking.

 _No crying either_. She berated herself silently.

"Rollins, up until today I haven't had a reason to address you, but whatever it going on between you needs to stop. Today." Cragen pointed at the floor, his steely gaze searing first Amanda and then Olivia.

He let them stand in uncomfortable silence for a moment before adding, "The words I heard exchanged out there I don't ever want to hear again in this precinct. Do you understand?"

Amanda imperceptibly narrowed her eyes at the wall, biting back her own urge to retaliate. After what Cragen had heard come out of her mouth, she knew it was within her best interests not to say anything else besides  _yes, sir_ , but it was hard not to throw fingers in Olivia's direction. If it wasn't for the senior detective's bad attitude they wouldn't be here to begin with. Not even close.

"Good. Now, you're gonna get out there and do your job or else you're both going home for the day." Cragen concluded, waving a hand at them. "At ease. You're dismissed."

Amanda relaxed from the rigid stance, hardly looking Cragen in the eye as she murmured a  _yes, sir_  and quickly turned towards the door. She needed to get away from Olivia and the entire situation before she did or said anything else that she would regret.

She strode out into the squad room, and she could feel emotions boiling up again without the suppressive concentration of standing at attention. Her face felt hot, her nerves trembling as she rushed towards the ladies room. She didn't know whether it was the anger, the disappointment or the humiliation, but she felt as though she might burst into frustrated tears in the middle of the precinct.

She slammed both hands against the heavy bathroom door, and burst inside the much cooler, quieter space. The door swung shut slowly behind her as she went to the sink, and leaned heavily on the ceramic. Her breath was raspy in her ears, and she couldn't look at herself because the image was blurred and distorted.

"Fuck. Fuck.  _Fuck._ " She groaned in a whisper. "Get it together."

She sucked in long breath only for it to break through her nose in a trembling exhale a moment later.

"Urgh,  _God_." She cursed, scraping her hands over her face as she tried to pull together the emotions that she had ignored ever since arriving in New York.

She'd had so much faith in Olivia, perhaps because she'd imagined that she'd be so much different than everyone else. She'd expected another woman to have her back, to never bring her fear or anguish, to never intentionally hurt her or manipulate her, but so far Olivia had done all of these and more; and although Amanda knew that she owed her absolutely nothing, she couldn't help but be more disappointed than she ever had been in her life.

Long seconds passed before the sound of the bathroom door opening caused Amanda to straighten.

 _Shit, shit._  She thought, wrenching the cold water on to splash on her face. She hadn't let anyone see her cry since she'd been stood up at the junior prom (save for that terrible night in a seedy Atlanta hotel room, and she told herself that didn't count) and she wasn't going to start again now.

"Amanda?"

She froze with her wet hands clasped over her face.

_Olivia._

She'd know the sound of her voice anywhere, but especially here in the vulnerability of her bathroom breakdown. She bit her lower lip, swallowing another curse as she let her hands slip slowly from her face.

"What do you want?" She asked huskily, grabbing the sink again with one hand and twisting the water off with the other.

A few drops of water splashed against the drain in the silence before she heard Olivia's boots click against the tile. She stiffened when Olivia's hand brushed the back of her arm, igniting a wave of goosebumps across her body.

"I guess I deserve that." Olivia murmured, her fingers lingering unbearably.

Amanda was surprised at Olivia's apologetic tone after the way she'd talked to her, but she decided she wouldn't be so quick to feel pity for her again. Olivia had done nothing but send her mixed signals since her arrival, and Amanda didn't know what was and wasn't real anymore.

"No shit." Amanda finally scoffed past the knot in her throat, and pulled away from Olivia's gentle grasp.

She grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and slowly dried her face with her back turned. She didn't know when she'd be able to face her without becoming unhinged again.

"After what I told you I thought you'd understand that I want to keep co-workers and friends separate from now on." Olivia continued, although Amanda wasn't sure she even wanted to stand there and listen. "It's not personal."

"No?" Amanda asked, cutting her off as she turned impetuously. "I think it is personal.  _Especially_  after what you told me."

Olivia's brows were furrowed, and her fingers were clenched together in front of her as though she didn't quite know what to do with them when she wasn't allowed to touch her. The thought flashed through Amanda's mind unbidden, and she drew a wobbly breath.

"I don't know you very well." Olivia murmured, "but I don't think either of us need this right now."

"Need what?" Amanda whispered, reaching back to clutch the sink again.

"This." Olivia spread her hands. "Or trying to figure out what this is. What we want from each other."

Amanda nearly choked, taking a step back until the cold surface of the stall behind her pressed against her shoulder blades. Her tongue felt weak and useless in her mouth at Olivia's insinuations although she was sure that she hadn't meant it in  _that_ way. Surely, she hadn't.

"I…" Amanda whispered, her gaze flitting away from Olivia's. "I don't know. Maybe, I just wanted a colleague I could trust."

Olivia folded her arms, restlessly, and glanced down at the floor. She chewed her lower lip for a moment before she glanced back up her, dark eyes intense and intuitive.

"You don't trust many people, do you?" She asked, softly.

Amanda swallowed hard, her heart pounding anxiously in her chest. Something about Olivia's deep eyes, and gentle hands made her want to collapse and spill everything - all the secrets she'd been hiding that were eating her up inside, all the trauma that she'd buried until it rotted in her bones, all the things she'd never told anyone because she was too ashamed.

 _Maybe, this is what I wanted._ She thought, unable to speak it.

"I hope you understand I don't trust many people either then." Olivia murmured, her lips lifting in a short, sad smile. "I think that's one thing we have in common."

Amanda stared back at her, unmoving and mute, as Olivia gave a nod of finality and turned towards the door. Amanda watched her leave, even as everything within her wanted to beg her not to go. The door shut behind her, and she pressed her eyes shut against the tears. She listened to the silence and the screaming of her own mind.

_You're never gonna get what you want._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys just wanted to drop in and thank everybody for all of the support and lovely comments you've been giving me and.... HAPPY RENEWAL! We goin to season 21, baby!

_Two weeks later_

The job was simple - watch the bodega, bust the rapist, Terrance Hughes, in middle of his nightly run for Suzy Q's, close the case.

It should've been so goddamn simple, but as soon as Captain Cragen paired Amanda and Olivia off together Olivia knew it was going to be anything but simple. Amaro and Fin were parked down the street in their own car, and she couldn't help but be annoyed with Cragen. He'd forced them into being partners after their fight in the middle of the precinct, no doubt as a way to push them to work out their differences themselves.

So far, it had been… interesting.

Olivia would have much rather preferred to take her own time with accepting Amanda as a member of the squad, and she'd been apprehensive that Amanda's desperate vying for her attention would continue. Instead, Amanda's mood had seemed to diminish with the new arrangement, and Olivia often found herself uncomfortable with her sullen silence and depressive attitude. In the back of her mind she knew it was the guilt driving her to feel the displeasure so deeply although she tried to tell herself that she could not take responsibility for Amanda's mental health. She had her own to tend to.

It'd been three weeks and a day since she'd seen Elliot on that fateful night of the Rory Halstead case, and sometimes she still felt like she was drowning. She'd replayed their final fight in her mind, word for word, until she was sick to her stomach, but it didn't change anything.

She still wanted to call him, and hear his voice. She still drank half a bottle of wine after work, convincing herself that it was better than the tears that would tear her apart for hours. She wished that none of this had ever happened, but Elliot was still gone, and she was still alone every single night…. Except for this night….

They'd been parked across the street from the bodega for less than thirty minutes, but in her mind it felt like hours. The space inside the squad car was suffocating, and her seat was far too close to Amanda's.

They'd barely spoken a word since arriving and Amanda had spent the entirety of the half an hour staring resolutely out the window at the tiny shop. Olivia couldn't even begin to wonder what was going on inside the other woman's mind, but she could feel the tension rolling of her in waves.

 _Maybe, I was too hard on her._ The fleeting thought passed through her mind as it had half a dozen times in the past two weeks.

She'd tried to let her down gently that afternoon in the bathroom, killing her with kindness in a way, but watching Amanda wither before her hadn't been as relieving as she imagined. Her sudden and complete change of attitude left Olivia grappling as she found herself on the receiving end of the cold shoulder. She'd tried to keep her distance and keep it professional, but it was damn hard after all of the far too personal words they'd exchanged. She was loathe to admit it, but in a way she wished for the days when Amanda was quick to smile in her direction and offer unsolicited compliments.

 _Maybe she was right._ She mused, grimly.  _Maybe I do miss someone stroking my ego…_

Olivia clenched her jaw and glanced out the front windshield, trying to focus on the job before them. She'd never realized how distracting silence could be until now. For the past twelve years, she'd shared stakeouts with Elliot, and they'd never been uncomfortable with each other. In fact, she'd relied on his steady breathing and his unfrazzled nerves when the anticipation of making a collar got her too jittery, and he counted on her just the same. With Amanda next to her, she couldn't seem to focus for even a single, five minute period of time.

 _This isn't a partnership._  Olivia thought, casting a glance towards Amanda's shadowed profile.  _This is torture._

She'd spent the previous month wishing that Amanda would shut the hell up. Now, she wished she'd say something,  _anything,_ to regain some semblance of normalcy.

In the dim lighting, she watched Amanda slowly chew on one thumb nail, her full, pink lips pouting around her moistened finger. Her fine, blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun at the back of her head, and Olivia could see a gleam of sweat on her neck and forehead where her flyaways curled against her pale flesh-

 _Stop it._  She ordered herself, averting her eyes.

The perspiration meant nothing. They were both wearing bullet proof vests and NYPD issued jackets over their usual attire. Coupled with the mounting adrenaline, it was no surprise that they were overheated...right?

 _It's one thing to pity her,_  She told herself,  _and quite another to…..to what?_

Olivia reached up and tugged on the neckline of the bullet proof vest. The thirty extra pounds of pressure weighing down on her shoulders was only compounding the sensation of slowly sinking into an abyss of dread.

She worked her teeth over her lower lip, desperately trying to think of anything to say to break the silence when Amanda spoke abruptly.

"You know. It's late. Maybe I should grab some coffee?" Her typically soft, southern tone was rigid and strained with much the same stress as Olivia was feeling.

She glanced over at Olivia, her blue eyes guarded, but Olivia could sense the plea lying underneath. Amanda wanted out of this goddamn car as much as she did.

"Sure." Olivia nodded, forcing a casual expression.

The last thing she wanted was another fucking coffee from Amanda, but she needed the caffeine and it gave them an excuse to get out of each other's personal space.

Without another word Amanda shouldered the door open, the hinges creaking loudly against Olivia's raw senses. She flinched as Amanda slammed the door behind her and began to jog across the street, her ponytail bouncing behind her, gleaming against the lamp lights overhead.

Olivia watched her go, her heart chugging in her ears. The silence was suddenly even louder. Lying her head back against the seat, she took in breath of fresh air and relief, but the exhale was nothing but a tremble of weakness.

 _What the hell?_  She questioned herself derisively, and scrubbed her hands over her face.  _Is she finally getting to you?_

"No…" She murmured into her palms before letting them fall into her lap.

Beyond the car she could see the wide bodega windows, protected by rusting bars, and between the rungs, Amanda. She bit at her lip again as she watched the younger detective converse with the clerk before she flashed a friendly smile and turned towards the exit.

Olivia could not remember the last time Amanda had smiled at her.

 _Maybe that's because you told her we'd never be friends._  She reminded herself sarcastically.

Shaking her head, she tried to ignore the pang of guilt in her chest, and focus on the task at hand. Narrowing her eyes, she watched Amanda exit the shop, the coffees balanced in either hand as she glanced up and down the sidewalk before crossing.

Olivia shifted over to grab the passengers side door handle, and she had the door half pushed opened before she looked up to see Amanda at a standstill in the middle of the street. A man was passing her, and she was turned, watching him retreat.

 _What is she….?_  The thought trailed away in Olivia's mind, and her stomach dropped as she recognized their rapist, Terrance Hughes, cantering towards the bodega that Amanda had just left.

The seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. She was breathless, her heart suddenly pounding anew as her gaze bounced between Hughes and Amanda.

 _No, don't do it, Amanda._   _Wait for backup._  Olivia pleased silently, her hands trembling with sudden adrenaline as she pulled herself upright in the seat. Fumbling for the keys, she twisted them out of the ignition, her eyes never leaving Amanda.

She could see the exact moment when everything clicked into place like the hand of Fate itself had reached down and touched them. Amanda turned completely, then...

"Damnit!" Olivia cursed aloud as Amanda tossed the cups to the ground, and grabbed for her gun. Coffee exploded across the blacktop, and Amanda was bolting.

"Terrance Hughes!" Olivia heard her shout as she sprinted after him, her service weapon poised. "NYPD!"

"Fucking Christ, Rollins." Olivia snarled, shoving her door open, and flying out into the street after her.

She unholstered her weapon with one hand, and grabbed the radio clipped to her shoulder with the other as her boots pounded against the pavement, and the cold fall air whipped at her face.

"Target spotted!" She yelled, breathlessly in the mic. "I need backup at the bodega  _now_!"

By the time she made it across the street Amanda and Hughes had disappeared inside the bodega. As she made it to the front door, she could hear panicked screams from the patrons and employees. She internally cursed Amanda's impulsive behavior once more as she flung the door open, causing the bell to chime loudly above her.

She slowed, bringing her weapon to bear in both hands as she assessed the scene before her. The customers were huddled behind shelves and on the floor, their glossy eyes staring back at her fearfully. Up ahead a display was tilted on its side, the Suzy Q's spilled ironically across the floor in the wake of Hughes's escape.

"NYPD. I need everyone to evacuate now." Olivia ordered, stepping over a fallen rack of USB cords and chargers that had once stood vigil at the front door.

The patrons glanced at each other with a chorus of terrified murmurs before they slowly began to scurry towards the exit.

Olivia advanced past them, her eyes raking across the interior of the small shop for any sight of velvety, blonde tresses. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement from behind the counter, and she spun around, her heart skipping.

"W-wait!" The trembling clerk, a young, thin, Middle Eastern man, straightened from behind the counter, his dark eyes wide as he held up his palms. "Don't shoot, please."

Olivia huffed a breath from between clenched teeth, lowering her gun in front of her.

"Which way did they go?" She demanded, canting her hand towards the shop behind her.

He lifted a quivering hand, and pointed towards the set of black, swinging doors behind her that lead to the backroom of the bodega. The windows were dark, giving her little to no idea what lay beyond. Her heart rate spiked again. Since entering the bodega, she hadn't seen or heard Amanda or Hughes, and she tried to ignore the worst case scenarios rushing through her head.

"Okay, get out of here." She told the clerk, inclining her head towards the front door.

He nodded, and darted from behind the counter before disappearing into the night. The door chimed one last time before leaving her in silence in the middle of the shop.

She turned towards the double doors, clutching her gun higher in both perspiring palms as she took measured steps towards them. Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears, and her mouth had gone dry with adrenaline. She wouldn't be half as terrified if Amanda was by her side rather than behind those doors with a serial rapist, and she prayed that the younger detective's own stupid decision wouldn't be too costly.

She reached the doors, and she grabbed for her flashlight. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the cold metal, and aligned it with with barrel of her gun. The light washed sharply across the window, reflecting her own terrified expression for a moment before she kicked the door in.

"NYPD!" She shouted once more as she charged inside.

Her flashlight cut a wide, sharp path across the interior of the room that was filled with shelves of dry good, perishables, and household products. The spaces between the racks were narrow, and she squinted in darkness to make out any sign of Hughes and Amanda. Her breath was raspy in the silence, her boots clicking against the concrete flooring as she inched forward down the first aisle. Her shoulder brushed against a box of beer bottles and they rattled inside, causing her gasp softly. She paused, pressing her eyes shut for half a second as she tried to draw a steady breath.

Suddenly, from the dark she heard a shuffle of movement, and then a soft whimper. Her eyes jarred open, and she flexed her fingers hard around the gun as she strained her ears for a sense of direction. Her shoulders were taut, sweat forming between them beneath her vest as she edged towards the back of the room.

"NYPD. Come on out, Hughes." She called out, inciting another bout of shuffling and then a loud rattling.

 _He's trying to get out the back door._  She thought, quickening her pace along the shelves.  _Not so fast, you bastard._

She spun around the end of the rack, and the LED of her flashlight caught Hughes in its glare. He was backed up against the heavy, exit door, prying at the lock with one hand, and her stomach dropped as she saw the gun in his other hand, poised against Amanda's cheek. He held her in front of him, controlled by the glinting barrell of the semi automatic, and she seemed to frozen beneath that pointed, visceral threat.

Her complexion was washed out and white beneath Olivia's beam, her blue eyes wide and dazed. Blood was fresh and bright at her left nostril, spilling over her quaking top lip. At this proximity, Olivia could hear her raspy, panicked inhales and she knew that she was completely impaired by Hughes's attack.

"Hughes, don't move." Olivia ordered, taking one more step closer before he spun in her direction.

"I'll shoot her!" Hughes retaliated, grabbing Amanda's arm as he tightened the nose of the gun against her cheek.

Amanda groaned a guttural sound, her dilated, unfocused gaze latching onto Olivia's, and Olivia could scarcely breathe. She could not dwell on the terror in those eyes, could not be incapacitated by the deadly possibilities of how this would end. She clenched her gun harder in her hand to still the tremble, and narrowed her eyes at Hughes.

"Terrance, listen to me very carefully." She urged, her voice low and thick above the underlying tremor of fear. "There's no way out of here. That door is locked. You're surrounded."

His eyes bounced away from hers towards the exit beyond her, and she knew he was contemplating his chances of outsmarting and outrunning her.

"If you hurt my detective I will shoot you." She threatened in a measured tone. "Don't worry. I'm  _very_  accurate."

Amanda whimpered again, and Olivia felt the reactive flinch run through her entire body. She forced herself not to look at her pleading, terrified eyes again, and kept her gaze focused on Hughes.

"You wanna take your chances with me? Fine." She whispered sharply. "On the slim possibility that I miss, you might make it maybe out the front door, but I doubt it. I've got my whole squad ready to take your ass down."

Hughes shifted against the door, growing more and more ansty with every second. His eyes were bulging with desperation, flicking up and down, side to side, for any avenue of escape. He looked like a wild animal with his leg caught in a trap, and Olivia wanted so badly to put him out of misery.

"Let her go." She coaxed instead. "We've already got you on the rape, the breaking and entering, and now evading police. Do you wanna add assault on cop to that? Trust me, that won't end well."

His hand trembled, the gun pressing dangerously tight against Amanda's pale face. He was on the edge, and she knew it could go one of two ways. He'd either become overwhelmed and surrender or he would lash out and make a run for it.

"Come on, Terrance." She cajoled softly. "I don't have to hurt you if you don't want me to."

Hughes hesitated for another second, but she could see the decision forming in his eyes. Her heart rate pushed higher, her finger cinching tight over the trigger. All she needed was one good reason.

The tension in the room had reached a palpable, vibrating frequency when Hughes made his move, abruptly shoving Amanda forward. She catapulted forward into Olivia, and she caught her, swinging her away from the line of fire. The flashlight tilted away from Hughes as she used that arm to cradle Amanda to her chest, and the LED bounced over the ceiling and walls with dizzying patterns. Hughes's figure slipped in and out of her vision, but she brought her gun to bear in one outstretched hand and fired into the dark, once then twice.

_BOOM! BOOM!_

The gunfire resonated in the small room, and her ears immediately began to ring while the smoke filled her nostrils, thick and cloying. Above the singing of her head she heard Hughes cry out and stagger before hitting the floor.

In her arms, Amanda seemed to collapse either in relief or in terror.

"Woah, woah…" Olivia whispered, clenching her arm tight around her as she eased them to the ground.

A ragged sob emitted from Amanda's throat, and she grabbed the front of Olivia's vest with trembling fingers.

"It's okay. It's okay." Olivia whispered, tossing her gun down in order to stroke Amanda's hair, and face in search of any wounds. "Are you hurt?"

Amanda shook her head, and dug her face into Olivia's chest, her body rigid and shaking in the aftermath.

In the distance, Olivia heard Fin and Amaro's voices and the sound of their footsteps, and a wave of relief washed over her. A moment later the doors slammed open and the twin beams of their flashlight illuminated their huddled figures on the floor and Hughes's crumpled body.

"Liv, you okay?" Nick demanded, rushing over to her while Fin assessed the damage she had done to Hughes.

She heard him radio for a bus, and vaguely thought that the bastard would live to see a trial. Some Fates were just too merciful.

"Is anybody hurt?" Nick asked, dropping down beside them, his eyes darting up and down both of their bodies.

"Him maybe." Olivia whispered, her voice raspy and raw as she motioned towards Hughes.

Nick's brow was deeply furrowed as he cast a glance back towards Fin and their fallen rapist.

"What the hell happened?" He asked in a quieter tone. "One second you two are getting coffee and next we're hearing shots fired."

Olivia tightened her grip around Amanda's shoulders, and glanced away from him. Her adrenaline was still pumping, her head throbbing from the gunfire, and with the added rush of endorphins she could hardly think.

"Honestly…" She whispered, staring down at Amanda's trembling frame. "I don't know.

In some ways it was the truth. In others it was an omission to protect the woman quaking in her arms. She'd seen the look in her eyes, the pure terror, the paralyzing fear. She'd been there, cowering before a man who had but one intention to irreparably harm her. Only, what she'd seen in Amanda's gaze warned her of something more. Something like  _God, please, not again._

Amaro's frown deepened, and she felt him hesitate, but he didn't question her again.

Instead, he took her arm and murmured, "Okay, let's get you out of here."


	8. Chapter 8

Sometimes it felt like just last night. Other times, she could convince herself that what had happened in Atlanta was water on the bridge, in the past, long enough ago to forget. Lies.

Sitting on the curb outside of the bodega, an instant ice pack clutched against her face, Amanda could still feel the tingle in her hands, her face, down to the tips of her toes. It'd been several months since she'd had a panic attack so severe, but the shame of experiencing something so debilitating while she was on the job was familiar and achingly fresh.

She closed her eyes, replaying the moment she'd stepped inside the bodega. The moment everything had gone wrong.

_She'd seen Hughes running towards the back of the door. Patrons were screaming and panicking at the sight of the weapon clutched in his hand - but she hadn't known that. Abandoning caution, she'd followed him into the back, and that was when she'd met the cold threat of the gun. He'd tripped her, and she fallen to the ground. Hard. Disoriented in the dark, she hadn't seen the blow coming._

_Crack!_

_The butt of the gun met her face, and stars exploded overhead. Her gun had slipped from her hand when she'd fallen, and skittered away from her beneath a nearby shelf. Barely able to think straight, she hadn't been able to even move, much less search for her weapon._

_Then Hughes had been on top of her, the gun pressed against her side, the smell of him invading her nostrils in sickening waves._

" _Aren't you gonna be a treat?" He'd whispered in her ear._

_She'd tried to scream, but he licked her face and chuckled. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her up from the ground, and then…._

Then what?

The rest was a blur of shaking and numbness and panic. Her next lucid memory was Olivia's arms around her, strong and safe, the sound of her voice a relief.

The shame had come after when the cold chills stopped and she could breathe again; when she'd seen her team's concerned expression as they sheparded her towards the ambulance. She'd begun to insist that she was fine, humiliation clinging to her bones like a second skin as they crowded around her while the EMT checked her vitals. Finally, he'd announced that she hadn't suffered any major injuries, handed her the ice pack, and let her go.

She'd been at the curb for ten or fifteen minutes now. She was unsure of the exact amount of minutes that had passed, nor could she remember the time it had been before she'd gone into the bodega. The seconds and minutes slipped away from the grasp of her mind, and she stared blankly at the scene before her while the ice pack chilled her mouth and nose to stiffness.

When Olivia approached her, she was completely unaware until she heard her name.

"Amanda?"

Olivia's tone was soft, but she still startled, blinking quickly against the burning dryness of her eyes.

She lowered the ice pack as Olivia hovered next to her, squatting down next to the curb.

"You doing okay, sweetie?" Olivia asked, her gaze tracking up and down Amanda's body with unnerving intensity.

"Yeah…" Amanda murmured, staring down at the ice pack in her hands.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I mean, I've been through worse." Amanda attempted to joke with a shrug, but the rough laugh broke midway.

"Listen." Olivia said softly, squeezing her arm in a gentle gesture that Amanda could hardly bear. "I understand how terrifying this is…"

Amanda ducked her face away, clenching her hand over her chin and mouth. She'd spent weeks trying to impress this woman, days trying to piss her off, hours dreaming about what could be…. only to find herself here. Humiliated. Pathetic. A victim to Olivia's eyes. A failure like always.

"I've been in situations like this before." Olivia continued, quietly. "And I know it's hard to shake. I want you to know it's okay. You don't have to be okay."

Amanda clenched her eyes shut hard, pushing back tears. Scraping her hand away from her mouth, she shoved her hair back out of her eyes, and tossed Olivia a steeled gaze.

"Thanks, Liv, but I'm okay. Really."

Olivia's gaze narrowed, her mouth forming a tight line of suspicion. Her fingers lingered on Amanda's arm, and finally her concern was too much to withstand. Pushing up from the curb, Amanda squared her shoulders, and tried to breathe evenly.

Olivia remained crouched behind her for a long moment as the silence rose between them with telling tangibility. At last, Amanda heard Olivia's boots scuffing the concert as she rose, and she felt panicked at the thought of another round of far too personal questions and commiserations.

"What about Hughes?" She forced out. "Is the motherfucker gonna make it?"

She glanced over her shoulder with a brittle scoff, hoping Olivia would follow her lead. Olivia stared back at her for a second, her brow furrowed, hands tucked stiffly in the pockets of her police jacket.

Finally, she motioned towards the ambulance that was preparing to leave the scene.

"Yeah, I barely nicked him."

"I thought you said you wouldn't miss." Amanda took another jab at humor, hoping to crack Olivia's stern expression.

Instead, Olivia sighed and shook her head, her voice low and rigid, "He better be glad I did."

Striding past Amanda, she patted her shoulder.

"Come on. They'll need our statements."

Amanda watched her retreat, her head lowered, shoulders tense, and the creeping sensation of dread converged fully upon her. She'd hoped for solidarity and cammeradie with Olivia, but she hadn't wanted it to be because of Atlanta. She'd known the older detective just long enough to know that she wouldn't let this go, and for the first time since arriving in New York, Amanda wished that Olivia would just leave her alone.

**xxxxxx**

"What the  _hell_  happened?"

Amanda had been prepared for the question, but standing here in front of the captain next to Olivia, Fin, and Amaro, she wasn't ready to be the first to answer it. It had been unbearable enough trying to avoid Olivia's poignant questions and gazes, and now she also had defend her decision to chase Hughes. She'd been asking herself something akin to the Captain's demand ever since she'd found herself on the ground, concussed and defenseless, and she still hadn't found a good answer.

"Benson?" Cragen demanded, turning his gaze to his most senior officer first.

Amanda cringed as she felt Olivia stiffen next to her. Although Olivia's rank wasn't any higher than the rest of them, Amanda knew that Cragen expected more of her in terms of decision making and leadership. It wasn't fair that she had to answer for Amanda's impulsive actions, and Amanda knew that. With a knot of dread in her throat, however, she couldn't speak up.

"There was a miscommunication." Olivia said, tersely, her tone veiled with the respect that Cragen's position demanded; but underneath, Amanda could sense the tension.

 _She might be more willing to defend you if you didn't act like a little bitch._  Amanda silently reminded herself.

"A miscommunication." Cragen repeated. "You were supposed to apprehend him quietly."

"Come on, captain," Amaro stepped in, ever ready to defend his partner. "How were we supposed to know he was armed?"

Amanda suppressed another cringe, and closed her eyes for a half second. He wouldn't be so quick to stick up for Amanda as he was for Olivia if he knew what had happened at the bodega. He was somewhat of a hothead, but she knew if it were anyone but himself making the rash decision, he'd tear them to pieces with words about procedure and common sense.

"You don't know but you prepare for every scenario." Cragen replied. "Having a shootout in the middle of the shop should have been out of the question."

"Sir, he was going to fire at myself  _and_ Amanda." Olivia stepped forward, her tone steely over a layer of outright frustration.

"I didn't ask that." Cragen frowned. "A two year old can point fingers. Not my best detectives."

"I cleared the bodega, Captain-" Olivia began to protest once more, but he held up a hand.

"Stop. This whole operation went off the rails. Period."

Olivia scoffed and leaned back against the wall, her arms folded tightly, causing Cragen's brow to furrow even deeper.

Amanda removed her gaze from the interaction, and looked down at her hands, picking at one nail as she tried not to let the tears rise beyond a glimmer in her eyes.

It wasn't often that Cragen chewed them out, especially Olivia, his shining star, but it was now the second time in a week because of  _her._ Her conscience was burning up her throat deep from the pit of her stomach, but she didn't know how to explain the situation to Cragen without admitting to the panic attack and all of the reasons behind it.

"You shouldn't have been in the bodega in the first place." Cragen continued, his tone sharp and decisive. "Rollins, do you have any better of an explanation?"

The sound of her name startled her, and she glanced up quickly, her stomach swooning with dread. Cragen's eyes were on her as well as Fin's and Amaro's. Olivia's gaze was the sharpest, like a pointed blade against her throat, choking her with the truth. Nevermind the compassion winding through her dark, unyielding gaze. She was fucked.

Amanda stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush beneath the oppression of their inquiring eyes. She'd rather have sunk straight through the floor than admit to being blinded by first ego and then panic, but she knew that if she didn't admit to her mistake right now it would come out later. It didn't matter how much sympathy Olivia had for her. When it came to her DD-5 or her testimony in court, Olivia wouldn't lie for her.

"I…." She began, somehow unable to break eye contact with Olivia despite her discomfort.

The other woman gazed back at her, waiting for her response. Amanda wished that she'd speak up again - anything to take the focus off of Amanda and her bumbling explanation - but Olivia remained silent, her stare excruciating.

Amanda swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing beneath the eyes of her coworkers and captain.

"It was my fault." She finally said, her voice emitting husky and faltering. "I went into the bodega to get coffee, and when I came out, I saw him on the street, and my first instinct was to chase him."

The captain's brows rose, and she could feel Amaro and Fin shifting in awkward silence in the wake of her confession. Olivia looked away, her arms tightening beneath her breasts, and Amanda couldn't tell if she was feeling compassion or disgrace for her plight. She knew that Olivia's opinion of her was not the most important thing at the moment, but she still could not help but feel panicked at the thought of Olivia's regard of her falling any further.

"I thought he would come easily." Amanda continued, her voice tight and high as she tried to smooth over the utter humiliation of the moment. "I didn't know he was armed or that it might endanger civilians."

"All right." Captain said, holding up his hands, halting her frantic explantation. "We'll deal with this later. For now, all of you go home and get some rest."

Amanda lowered her hands, a small bit of relief washing over her. She knew that Cragen wouldn't simply let it go, but for now she could escape from the judging confines of this office, and this job. Escape Olivia.

Amaro and Fin muttered "yes sir"s and turned towards the door, and Amanda followed quickly behind them, her head lowered. She was already thinking of the half bottle of whiskey in her fridge and the inviting cocoon of her bed and comforter, and Cragen's next command startled her.

"Olivia, not you."

Amanda glanced back quickly at Olivia, shocked. If she'd expected Cragen to hold anyone back in order to issue some kind of private punishment for lack of judgement, it had been herself. Not Olivia, her rescuer.

"Captain, she didn't do anything wrong." She began to protest, casting a watery, apologetic gaze in Olivia's direction.

"Amanda, it's fine." Olivia interrupted her before the Captain could, holding up at a hand to halt her.

Amanda's gaze bounced between Cragen and Olivia helplessly, and she wished desperately that she had never left the cruiser, never found herself so uncomfortable in Olivia's company, never wanted her approval more than anyone's. It was a series of stupid mistakes,  _rookie_ mistakes.

"Please shut the door on your way out." Cragen instructed, motioning towards the exit.

Amanda swallowed sharply, and sent Olivia one last, apologetic gaze. Olivia stoically accepted her glance before averting her gaze towards the captain. Her eyes were unreadable beneath a layer of tenuous composure, and Amanda felt her heart sinking.

She hadn't allowed Olivia to comfort her or to offer her understanding at the crime scene, and now she wasn't sure that she'd want to offer her anything ever again.

Spinning towards the door, Amanda stormed out, hot tears raging in her eyes. Slamming the door behind her, she released a low growl of frustration, and scraped the back of her hand quickly over her eyes.

She wanted more than anything to go home and hide for the rest of the night, or week, or however long it took for this humiliation to fade; but stubbornly she decided she had to wait it out. She had to see Olivia's face when she emerged from Cragen's office to know how badly she'd fucked up.

They were back at square one. Perhaps, worse than square one, and this time she only had herself to blame.

**xxxxxxx**

"All right, so what's really going on here?"

Cragen's face was kind enough and he was leaned back in the chair, giving the impression that this wasn't to be a reprimand, but Olivia couldn't help but feel on edge.

What had happened before and during the operation at the bodega had left her full of concern and worries

for Amanda's state of mind, not to mention a fresh wave of self-doubt.

She'd seen unresolved trauma in the faces of officers who'd made career-ending decisions, seen it in her own face in the mirror. She'd had her theories on why Amanda had come up from Atlanta, but until tonight she hadn't imagined that it was because of violence and assault. She knew nothing for certain, but in her gut, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that Amanda had been violated in some way in the past. If she was correct - and she was certain down to a slim margin of error - then she was also under the suspicion that the young detective had never sought therapy either.

She could fool everyone well enough with her confidence and cavalier attitude, but tonight had proved that it was but a facade. Underneath, something else was festering, and in some ways, Olivia felt responsible for pushing her to edge. In other ways, she vehemently wished that someone had recognized that Amanda was unfit for duty and that they'd never even had the chance of meeting.

If only El hadn't left...

"Olivia?" Cragen asked, drawing her back to the present.

Olivia shifted in the chair and crossed her legs as she brushed lint from her thigh. It was a minor distraction, one that allowed her gaze to land somewhere other than Cragen's knowing gaze.

"Rollins told you the truth." She said, stating each word plainly so that her tone was even.

"I know." Cragen nodded. "But I want to know what really happened out there. In her head."

"Why don't you ask her?" Olivia asked, finally meeting his gaze. "I can't read her mind."

He smiled and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk.

"Olivia, you're my best detective. I don't say that in front of the others, but I trust what you take out of a situation."

Olivia sighed and glanced away.

Any other time she might have been flattered by the captain's praise. She might've allowed it to fill her sails and lift her from the depression of such a failed operation, but she couldn't. She was too personally involved in this situation now, and that was her own damn fault - and Amanda's. What a pair of fools they'd been.

"What I'm saying is…. You can read people, and I want the truth here; not some watered down version that Rollins would give me to save her own ass." Cragen clarified.

"Rollins fucked up." Olivia returned sharply. "I trusted her, and maybe that was a mistake."

"I know she messed up, but…I thought you'd be more objective than this."

Olivia breathed out through her nose and spread her hands over her thighs as she released the heavy breath.

"This wouldn't have happened if it had been El." She whispered, the words falling off her tongue before she could stop them, before she could shore up the blood spilling from all the re-opened wounds.

"Olivia…" Captain said, quietly.

"I know, I know." Olivia returned, quickly, lifting her hands to rub them over her face, to hide the shimmering of tears in her eyes.

The pain always came so quickly, hitting her straight between the ribs and up into her heart when she least expected it. One moment she would be fine, and then the next… some sound, or smell, or place would bring it all rushing back, as if New York City was just one big, fucking tripwire.

"I thought this was getting better."

Cragen's tone was gentle enough, but Olivia could sense the condemnation lying beneath. He'd never explicitly known about their relationship, but he wasn't blind or stupid, and sometimes Olivia wondered if he was happy that Elliot had chosen to leave because of that very reason. Cragen was as close to a father figure as she'd ever come, and she supposed Cragen being overprotective came with the territory. Most of the time, she wished that it didn't.

"It's fine." Olivia shook her head, sucking in a breath. "I'm fine."

"Is it?" Cragen asked. "It's been over a month since Rollins's transfer. I thought I'd see better teamwork between you two."

"So it's my fault?" Olivia snapped, rising suddenly from the chair and pacing away.

"You said there was a communication problem?" Cragen asked, skirting away from her direct question.

Maybe it was too early to be throwing out accusations, but perhaps it was just her guilty conscience speaking for itself. She'd been unusually cruel towards the younger detective, carelessly and uncaringly. It hadn't mattered who Amanda was or what had happened to her when she'd been so wrapped up in her own heartache, but after tonight, she couldn't ignore Amanda's feelings in exchange for her own. She'd allowed Amanda to leave the car, knowing damn well that they shouldn't separate themselves during an operation. She'd let her go simply because they couldn't stand being in the same car together, a petty and ridiculous excuse.

Olivia breathed out and leaned on the window sill, facing the squad room. From between the blinds, she could glance Amanda sitting at her desk, slouched in her chair. Her laptop was open in front of her, but she was distracted. Her leg was bouncing quickly and she biting a nail.

She had every right to be nervous.

Olivia lowered her gaze and stared down at the floor for a moment before she murmured, "She offered to get the coffee. I let her go. I didn't stop her."

There was silence for a moment, and Olivia pressed her eyes shut.

"Fine. So she went after him." Cragen said at last. "What happened inside the bodega? Amanda had a bloody nose, loses her gun, and you're firing into an enclosed space. It's bad policing, Liv."

"I know that." Olivia replied sharply. "I know we lost control."

"So give me an explanation." Cragen insisted. "I'm trusting you to tell me the truth here because I don't think I'm going to get it from Rollins."

Olivia breathed out, and lifted her hand to the back of her neck. All of her muscles were rippling with tension beneath her fingertips, and she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to relax any time soon.

She knew it wasn't her place, but there was no other explanation for Amanda's behavior at the bodega but PTSD. She'd lived with it long enough to know the signs, and she could only blame herself for not pulling Amanda back as soon as she saw them. She'd somehow unknowingly put them in this situation, and as upset as she was, the blame couldn't rest solely on Amanda.

She closed her eyes, and straightened from the window, her fingers pressing hard into her taut muscles.

"She's a survivor, Captain."

"What do you mean?" Cragen asked carefully.

"I mean…" Olivia began, opening her eyes to gaze out at the blonde head across the squad room. "I think she's been assaulted."

Cragen's chair creaked, and another long beat of silence passed.

"You think?" He asked at last.

Finally, Olivia turned from the squad room to look at him.

"She panicked inside the bodega. The look in her eyes...it's unmistakable. I think she saw Hughes… and she kicked into fight or flight instinct."

"Do you think she should be in the field?"

"I can't say for sure."

Cragen sighed and rubbed his fingers over his forehead.

"Captain, I only brought it up because you deserve an explanation." Olivia said, walking back over to the desk and leaning on the back of the chair. "I wouldn't have said anything otherwise."

"You think she was compromised today but not tomorrow?" Cragen asked, lifting his gaze to hers.

"I think…. That there were other factors." Olivia said, carefully. "And I think you shouldn't be too hard on her."

When he frowned, she continued, quietly, "You've given me plenty of second chances, Captain. Give her one."

"All right." Cragen sighed, "But I want you to keep an eye on her. We can't have this happen again."

"I'll try, but…." Olivia shook her head. "I'm not sure she wants me as a partner."

"You're not sure she wants you, or the other way around?" Cragen asked. "Amanda isn't the only one I'm worried about here."

"I'm fine." Olivia repeated. "Trust me."

"I trust you to take care of this squad." Cragen said. "But not always yourself."

"Captain-" She began.

"No." He held up a hand. "You need to find a way to let him go, Olivia."

Olivia straightened, her body going rigid at the mention of Elliot once more. She looked away from Cragen and ground her teeth against the urge to cry once more. They'd had so many late night conversations about this, ranging from gentle and concerned to frustrated and rebuking, but it still hit her with the weight of freight train every time. To know that someone else was looking in upon her private pain hurt almost as much the fact that he was gone. She'd never shown weakness to anyone in this squad room a day in her life, but now all of that bravery and confidence was ground to sand and dust in the eyes of her Captain.

"I'll keep an eye on her." She whispered with a nod before turning towards the door.

"Take care of yourself, Olivia." He said after her, his tone more caring than she wanted to accept.

"Yes, sir." She said quickly, hoping he'd accept it as compliance.

Yanking the door open, she left without another word, eager to escape the room, Cragen, and all of the implications and consequences of the night, but there were some things she wouldn't be able to escape, no matter how hard she tried.

Her name was Amanda, and she had just promised to look out for her.

As the door closed behind her, her gaze fell on Amanda in the midst of the deserted squad room. She sat forward, her blue eyes shimmering with regret as she searched Olivia's gaze. She was scared, vulnerable, hurt.

With a low, exhale, Olivia squared her shoulders and began to cross the room. She had a promise to keep.


	9. Chapter 9

"I am so sorry." Amanda began as she soon as she reached her.

Her hands were clasped together as though she were praying forgiveness as she pressed her fingers tight to her quivering lips. Her wide gaze read fear and loneliness like the open pages of a book, and Olivia wanted to lift her hand and turn back to the beginning, to find the answers that Amanda couldn't give her.

She quietly pulled up a chair from the opposite desk and straddled the back of it, contemplating exactly how to put her words. After everything that had happened between them - the fights, the insults, the begrudging partnership - she wasn't sure how to proceed.

Amanda bit her lower lip as Olivia shifted close to her, and she could sense the distrust, the discomfort.

"Please tell me you didn't get suspended again." Amanda whispered, interrupting the uncomfortable silence with a rough laugh, the one Olivia was beginning to understand as a false front for strength.

"No." Olivia murmured, meeting her gaze. "We're in the clear."

"Really?" Amanda asked in disbelief, her gaze charting across the room towards Cragen's office. "God...I thought for sure I was toast."

She sat back in the chair, exhaling a long breath of relief. It would last long.

"Amanda, look…" Olivia murmured. "Things got off to a rough start tonight, and I realize that if they hadn't...we might be in a different situation right now."

"What do you mean?" Amanda asked, slowly, glancing back over at her with a guarded expression.

"The coffee."

"Liv, I know. I shouldn't have gotten out of the car." Amanda began to protest. "I know-"

"No, I mean before." Olivia gently stopped her. "The one you bought me when I came back to work. I should've accepted it. You were just trying to be nice to me, and be a good co-worker. I screwed that up, and I'm sorry."

She watched Amanda's expression shift from defensive to shocked, and she seemed to be flabbergasted by the apology.

 _Maybe it wouldn't be so shocking if you didn't act like a bitch._ Olivia thought, sarcastically.

"Okay…." Amanda said, slowly, at last. "Apology accepted…"

Silence fell between them again, and Olivia could sense the discomfort in Amanda's body language. After what she'd been through, Olivia could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind, how she must still be reeling. She'd promised to keep an eye on the younger detective, and though she'd never had a problem connecting with another female survivor before, she felt completely out of her depth simply looking at Amanda.

 _She's already compartmentalizing. Pretending it doesn't hurt._  Olivia thought as she watched Amanda stare vacantly down at her laptop, absentmindedly tapping the spacebar with her thumb.

Where her mind was would've been anyone's guess, but Olivia had been there, watching her crumble. If she wasn't careful, it'd happen again, and again, again.

"Look…" Olivia murmured at last, "I know you said you're fine-"

"I am." Amanda cut her off, her thumb tapping quicker against the keyboard.

"Are you?" Olivia asserted, reaching across the desk to take her wrist.

The tapping of the key came to an abrupt halt as Olivia pulled her hand closer. She could feel her flesh was chilled, a tremble vibrating through each finger before Amanda retracted her hand, sharply. She clutched her hand in front of her, wringing them slowly.

"Yes." She repeated in a whisper, but her gaze was glassy, her mouth taut against a quiver.

Olivia sighed, tilting her head with a disbelieving stare.

Amanda's attitude and self isolating behavior only made her more certain that something terrible had happened to her in Atlanta, and that it had only been a matter of time before it affected her job performance, but she realized that trying to get Amanda to disclose to her wouldn't be so easy of a case to crack. Her typical understanding, compassionate approach wasn't going to work in this situation. Amanda was a sex crimes detective just like she was, and she knew all the tricks. She needed a different tactic.

"Okay." Olivia sighed at last, rising from the chair. "You're fine. Completely fine."

She pushed the chair back over to its original desk, watching Amanda blink quickly in shock out of the corner of her eye.

Turning back towards her, Olivia folded her arms and gazed down at her surprised, uncertain expression.

"But this…." Olivia motioned between them. "This is a partnership now. I don't know if you know how that works, but you have to trust each other. I stuck up for you in there, Amanda, but I can't continue to take responsibility for your actions."

Amanda's trembling lower lip tightened, and she glanced away, her fingers clenching around each other.

"I'm not asking you to." She whispered, huskily.

"Then, please…" Olivia replied, motioning towards Cragen's office. "Go explain to him what happened tonight. Word for word."

Amanda's shoulders tightened, her chin dipping, and Olivia could see the tears rising. She felt the smallest burn of regret in her chest, but she ignored it. She'd tried to be kind, but it seemed that Amanda only responded to her when she was pushed to her limits.

"I'll help you." Olivia offered, briskly, rounding the desk and taking her arm. "Let's go. If you're so certain you're fine."

It was one last, tiny prod, and the emotion rippled through Amanda's whole body like a line of dominos falling one after the other.

"I can't!" She burst out, flinging a watery, desperate gaze up at Olivia as she yanked her arm away.

"Then you're not fine." Olivia insisted, dropping down in front of her, and taking her hands again. "Amanda, I know this is hard, but you have to seek help before this blows up in your face again."

Amanda moaned quietly, her shoulders and head hunched, her fine, blonde hair tumbling over her flushed cheeks and watery eyes. Her hands were taut against Olivia's hold, her whole body rigid against Olivia's attempt to crack the wall she'd built around herself. She wasn't even going to let the tears fall.

Several stiff, silent seconds passed before Amanda extricated her fingers, roughly, and rubbed her hands over her face. She turned her chair back towards the desk and clasped her palms over her forehead. She stared at the desktop reticently, and Olivia remained beside her for a few more moments before she rose with a sigh.

It was enough for tonight. She didn't want to be responsible for anything more than an honest one-on-one.

"Okay." She relented in a low murmur. "But you have my number. Anytime you want to talk, pick up the phone."

Amanda didn't answer, didn't move, hardly even breathed, and Olivia hesitated for only a moment before she turned away from her. Grabbing her jacket from the chair, she pulled it only her arms, and tucked her cell into her pocket. Still, Amanda did not reply.

Olivia almost hated to leave her sitting there, distraught and helpless, but until she accepted that she needed help it was going to be useless to try to force her to talk. With a soft sigh and shake of her head, Olivia strode towards the elevator

As she hit the ground floor, her head was full of distracted thoughts. The night had begun so differently than it had ended, and she was unsure what to make of her and Amanda's strange, evolving relationship.

She hailed a cab and focused on what she knew for certain. She needed a damn drink.

**xxxxxxx**

Clemenza's was a small Italian restaurant and bar two blocks from the precinct that Olivia had discovered some time after her and Elliot's relationship had begun to crumble. So often, she'd expected to spend her nights with him or waiting to see him, and after the turmoil had truly begun, those nights became fewer and far between. She'd often found herself walking after she clocked off, sometimes at odd hours, but Clemenza's was always open and always inviting. She'd end up inside, sharing laughs with the bartender, nursing a glass of wine until with a curse she'd realize the sun had risen.

The familiar view of the brink facade, the dated fake foliage, and the neon red, cursive header brought a rush of relief to her chest, and she quickened her pace until she reached the front door. It seemed strange that she was arriving here with Amanda on her mind rather than Elliot, a dilemma that she tried quickly to ignore as soon as she realized it.

She began to shrug off her coat as she reached the bar, a smile touching her lips as she saw Lorenzo, her favorite bartender behind the counter.

"Livvy!" He greeted her with a smile, "How are you, darling?"

"Oh, you know…" Olivia trailed off as she slid on to the bar stool, finding it hard to come up with the polite lie that everything was perfect and good in her world.

Damn social etiquette and the expectation of happiness from every stranger on the street. She wasn't fine, and Lorenzo was her bartender. He'd no doubt heard much worse than what she was feeling. At least, that's what she told herself as she tossed him a grim expression to compliment her complaint.

"It's been a hell of a night."

"Not the finest for New York's Finest, no?" He replied, sympathetically. "What can I get you to lift your spirits?"

 _Bless this man_. Olivia thought, smiling once more.

"Just a glass of wine. Red, please."

"Coming right up." Lorenzo assured her as he opened her tab and hurried off to prepare her drink.

Olivia heaved a sigh of relief as the the smallest bit of tension began to release from her shoulders. By habit she reached into her pocket to palm Elliot's shield as she contemplated the events of the evening.

She'd always sworn to herself that she would try to help every survivor that she came into contact with, no matter who they were or what the circumstance was, but on a personal level, Amanda didn't quite fit in to her crusader-like intentions. It was difficult even attempting to help her after the conflict between them, the tension, the attraction that she'd been trying to ignore since day one.

Some days - especially today- she just wanted Elliot back, the way things used to be. Before they'd known better, if they ever hadn't. Before they got in too deep. Before he'd had another kid and decided to demote her back to the other woman…

It'd been complicated then, but at least she'd known where her feelings were and exactly what she wanted from her partner. With Amanda, nothing was certain. Fate had caught them up together in a tornado of emotions and had yet to deposit them on safe ground.

"Here you go." Lorenzo interrupted her train of thought as he pushed the glass across to her before leaning on the counter. "Anything else I can get you? I hate to see you so blue, you know?"

Olivia scoffed a laugh as she accepted the drink, and immediately took the first satisfying sip.

"Have you ever met a woman so frustrating and annoying, and yet you can't get away from her, even if you wanted to?" Olivia questioned aloud impulsively.

 _You haven't had that much to drink yet._ She chided herself as soon as the words had left her lips. Yes, Lorenzo was her bartender, but there were things she kept to herself and only herself.

Instead of judging her, however, Lorenzo burst into laughter.

"I am married, aren't I?" He asked, spreading his hands.

A flush washed over Olivia's cheeks, and she almost choked on her second sip of wine.

"Not like that." She quickly corrected him. "I meant a co-worker."

Lorenzo laughed and began to reply when something, or rather someone, caught his gaze over Olivia's shoulder.

"Maybe her?" He joked, motioning towards the entrance of the restaurant as Olivia twisted sharply in her seat.

She sputtered as her eyes landed on Amanda. She'd just stepped inside, and she stood hesitantly across the room from Olivia's position at the bar. Her eyes were piercingly blue against bloodshot white and puffy lids, glassy like the standing water on a placid lake. Their gazes met and her mouth twisted in a trembling line.

 _You got me_. Her expression read as she shrugged a slow, silent surrender.  _I give up_.

Olivia stared back at her, shocked at her presence for a long moment before she managed to pull her composure together. She motioned for her to come over, and Amanda's chin ducked, hiding her flushed, tear-streaked appearance. She quickly crossed the room and slid onto the stool next to her, her hands balled into fists on the counter.

"Can I get you anything, miss?" Lorenzo asked hesitantly.

Amanda stared at the bar for a moment, her hand clenched and white knuckled in front of her.

"Whiskey." She finally whispered roughly.

Olivia almost protested as she wondered over Amanda's state of mind and how wise it would be to allow her to self medicate before reminding herself she hadn't exactly made herself an ally in Amanda's eyes. She had no place to tell her what to do, and she certainly hadn't lead by example thus far either.

"Water too, please, Lorenzo." She urged him, quietly, deciding she would do what she could to keep Amanda from spiraling.

"Right away, miss."

He turned back towards the bar, leaving them alone in silence.

"Cragen suggested I might find you here." Amanda

whispered, lifting one hand to swipe away the lingering tears. "I just started thinking… You had the balls to tell me about Elliot, and you do deserve an explanation after what I put you through tonight."

"Amand-"

"Don't say I didn't do anything wrong." Amanda cut her off, quickly, casting her narrowed, watery gaze. "I know I fucked up."

Olivia sighed, softly, gazing down at her glass as she tried to think of how to phrase her next few words. She'd explained Elliot's departure to Amanda, but there were other things that were almost more painful that she didn't want to delve into. What Amanda needed right now, however, was safety, an assurance that she wasn't telling the wrong person her secrets.

"I've lived with PTSD, Amanda." Olivia murmured at last. "I know what it does to your head."

Amanda's fingers tightened around her whiskey glass, her lids fluttering shut

"Yeah, well…" She whispered huskily at last, her voice trembling. "I've never been diagnosed with PTSD, and maybe I wasn't even raped."

Her bitter words jolted Olivia's senses, and head snapped quickly in Amanda's direction. It was the first time that Amanda had directly referenced the trauma she'd gone through, but what concerned Olivia more was her denial of it.

"Amanda, I don't think…"

"You've heard of buyer's remorse." Amanda interrupted her, her voice stiffening. "I mean that term flies around rape accusations and reports in the media and sex crimes units… At least where I come from. If it's not a stranger, if it's not overtly violent, if it starts out consensual…."

Olivia listened to her train of thought, knowing exactly where it was headed. Of course, a woman like Amanda didn't want to be a victim. She was strong, opinionated, and independent with enough sass for two or three people combined. She didn't fit the stereotypical profile of a victim that society had adopted, but Olivia knew better. If Amanda wasn't so in her own head she might've realized the same thing.

"Well, I think we've worked together long enough for you to know that I don't believe that line of bull." Olivia finally returned. "Whatever happened to you was not your fault."

"Whatever you say." Amanda replied with a shrug.

Lorenzo returned with her drink, cutting off any reply that Olivia might've made, and Amanda accepted the drink with far too much hunger in her eyes. She took a long, deep drink, her eyes closed as she downed half the glass.

"You might want to make that two." She whispered.

"You want me to take her keys, Liv?" Lorenzo asked, his brow furrowing.

"Hey, asshole." Amanda snapped, her watery gaze flaring with indignance as she waved a hand at him. "What're you asking her for? Hello, grown adult here. I can take care of myself."

"Amanda…" Olivia cut in, trying to keep a soothing tone as Lorenzo's brows rose, and he held up his hands, defensively. "We're just worried about you."

"God…" Amanda whispered, pressing the cold glass to her forehead as her shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean for this to-... I just….I don't know…"

"It's okay. Take it easy." Olivia suggested, hesitantly reaching over to rub her shoulder.

Glancing over at Lorenzo, she told him, "She's fine. We just need a minute."

The bartender nodded, and quietly left them alone. He was soon engaged with another customer, and Olivia turned back towards Amanda who was nursing her whiskey in hasty sips.

"So…." Amanda whispered rigidly, staring at her glass as she swirled the ice. "What do you wanna know? Who it was? How it happened? How messed up I was afterwards…"

"No…" Olivia murmured, letting her fingers slip from Amanda's stiff shoulder. "I just want to know I can trust you in the field. Your state of mind is important enough as a civilian, but as a cop...we have even more responsibility."

"Don't you think I know that?" Amanda demanded, sharply, stabbing a finger at the counter "I wake up every day telling myself to keep it together, and I've done a damn good job so far. Tonight…. It was one fuck up."

"And it could've cost you a hell of a lot more than a bloody nose." Olivia pointed out as she leaned closer to her. "It could've cost us all-"

"Oh, thanks, Liv." Amanda snapped, cynically, turning on the bar stool to face her with snarling vehemence. "I'm glad to know I haven't graduated beyond a poor replacement for Elliot in your eyes!"

"Elliot has nothing to do with this." Olivia immediately returned as indignation and denial flooded her veins in rapid fire response.

She'd thought enough about Elliot tonight for both of them, and she didn't need Amanda digging any further inside that wound.

"No?" Amanda demanded, setting her glass down hard enough to slosh the remaining liquid up against the rim. "Semper Fi, right? Forever? I am never going to be good enough for you, no matter what I do. It doesn't matter that I let a man have my body to save somebody else's ass. It doesn't matter that no believed me. You can play saint all you want, but at the end of the day all you care about it Elliot."

"That is not true." Olivia insisted, her teeth clenched against every urge to retaliate.

She was trying her hardest to offer Amanda support, to be the partner that Cragen expected her to be, to be the advocate that she expected herself to be; but damn Amanda and her impulsive conclusions. No matter how much Olivia knew that her own behavior was the foundation of Amanda's opinion at the moment, she wanted to deny it and prove in some way that it was absolutely false if only for her conscience's sake.

"You know that's not true." Olivia repeated as Amanda stared at her with a red-rimmed expression of mistrust.

"How?" Amanda whispered, turning on the barstool until the were face to face, their knees pressed together, bone against sharp bone.

"How what?" Olivia whispered, her heart slamming up against her ribs with suppressed frustration and their sudden, intimate proximity.

"How do I know that it's not true?" Amanda clarified in a whisper, her brow furrowing with the slightest hint at fear rather than anger.

Olivia stared back at her for a long moment, trying to decipher her expression, the tremble in her soft lips, the tears that shimmered in her blue eyes like a cloudy sky at dawn.

 _What are you thinking?_ Olivia wondered silently.  _What do you want me to say? How do you want me to say it? What words will make you unravel?_

She'd thought she needed a different tactic, and maybe she had; but staring into Amanda's eyes, she saw the vulnerability that she hadn't seen before. She'd crashed through the surface to the childlike desire for approval and acceptance. With her knuckles white around the barstool, shoulders taut and trembling, Amanda was ready to fall, and Olivia was suddenly and inexplicably convinced that she wanted her to catch her.

Olivia moved without thinking, abandoning every misguided instinct she'd formed in regards to Amanda. She slid down from the stool, and took Amanda's shoulders, felt her tremble in her hands.

"Come here." She whispered, pulling Amanda into her arms.

She felt Amanda stiffen in surprise, and her own heart raced in her chest. She'd offered physical comfort to hundreds of survivors, at crime scenes, in the backs of cruisers, in front of a lineup behind a two way mirror, but never like this. A few short hours ago they'd barely been able to stand each others presence, and now her instinct was screaming at her hug the younger woman like a friend.

For a silent, excruciating moment, Amanda seemed not to know what to do or how to respond, and Olivia wondered if she had made a mistake. She had nearly retracted her arms when Amanda's suddenly crumbled. Like a baby to her mother's milk, she sank into Olivia's chest. Her fingers clenched around the fabric of Olivia's shirt at her waist, the emotion welling up inside of her. Her shoulders drew tight, and Olivia could hear her breathing raggedly, but she bore it silently, either too afraid or too stubborn to break completely.

Olivia wondered quietly how many nights Amanda had endured the pain to be so strong as to deny the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. She wondered how long it had been since someone touched her like this. She wouldn't ask her. Instead, she just held her, calculating the soft weight of her in her arms. She haltingly stroked her back, all too viscerally aware of the feeling of Amanda against her chest winding itself into her memory. Each detail was too vivid and sharp to ever fade.

Finally, Amanda's fingers loosened from her waist. She straightened slowly, her head ducked to hide the stray tears that had managed to escape her lids. Olivia let her go, burying the hesitance to release her from the safe space of her arms.

Amanda roughly laughed, dashing at the tears with a shrug, "I guess I'm a lightweight tonight."

Despite her joking tone, Olivia didn't return the laugh. She inspected her expression critically, but much to her dismay the walls had gone back up.

"You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?" She asked, softly, her hands hovering at Amanda's arm.

The smile disintegrated from Amanda's lips, and she barely met her eyes as she shrugged once more in an effort at nonchalance.

"It was a long time ago… Not worth pursuing…" She finally replied, her voice husky.

She grabbed her drink from the counter, and tossed back the remaining liquid. In the overhead lights of the bar, Olivia could see the tear clinging her lashes and the way she roughly swallowed the alcohol and the emotion.

Setting the glass down, she raised her hand to call Lorenzo back over.

"Amanda, hold on." Olivia intervened. "You should drink some water."

"Don't worry you about me, Liv." Amanda suggested as she pulled out her wallet. "I'm done. No need to babysit me…Right?"

Olivia released a low sigh through clenched teeth, shaking her head as she tried to come up with a response to her own bitter words being thrown in her face.

"I shouldn't have said that." She admitted, quietly. "I shouldn't have said a lot of things. You're a good cop, Amanda."

Amanda scoffed, sliding down from the barstool.

"Please don't flatter me."

"Fine." Olivia insisted, standing with her and catching her arm. "No flatteries. Just honesty."

Amanda paused, glancing down at Olivia's hand touching her. A visible trembled washed over her, and her eyes darted away. Her jaw worked, and she reached up to quickly dash away an escaping tear.

"What do you want from me?" She asked at last, finally looking Olivia in the eye.

The desperation in her ocean eyes seized Olivia with an unflinching grip all over again, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was what she had been avoiding. Ever since Amanda had arrived, she had refused to look too closely, but now that she had, she could not remove her gaze.

"I…" She began in a whisper, her voice catching.

She'd glanced downwards, watched her own fingers tighten around Amanda's soft flesh. She'd promised honesty to Amanda, and self preservation to herself. Suddenly, it seemed that the two were not mutually compatible.

"I don't know for sure." She replied, quietly, forcing herself to meet Amanda's gaze once more. "For tonight, at least let me make sure you get home safe. I'm going to call a cab, and make sure you get in it."

Amanda's brow furrowed, and for a split second Olivia thought she might protest.

"Okay, yeah." Amanda replied at last with a shrug, her tone as nonchalant as though they were discussing dinner plans. "Whatever gets me out of here. This wallpaper is making me cringe."

Turning towards the exit, she strode off, her head lowered, shoulders squared. Olivia watched her, frozen for a moment at her cavalier attitude. Like a switch, she turned off the part of herself that was traumatized and vulnerable, and it shocked her how familiar it was. She'd done the same so often, and now she expected Amanda to unfold herself to her. It was almost laughable.

Sinking her hand into her pocket, Olivia clutched Elliot's badge once more. Then, she pushed herself off the stool and followed Amanda into the night.


End file.
